Chapter 1: A Bridge to the Moon

No wind swept this landscape, nor would rain ever fall. Sound died before its birth in these pockmarked gray plain. The shadows were cast with such a depth that it appeared as if they were liquid pools of blackness, void of texture and yet substantial in their aspect. Even such a desolate land had it's lord, and a single green eye watched over this domain. Colored just as darkly as the shadows that haunted this pale realm, save for a mane of white smoke, this lord cast its gaze to the horizon. It seemed to be waiting, or watching for some sign. Long had he stood this vigil, within the ruins of this world, staring stoically at land's end and sky's birth. Following the passing of the blue world which slowly rose and fell upon the same plain.

His long vigil was nearing it's end. Now did the shadow of that blue world creep across his kingdom, as it had eons ago. His bright and stale gray realm was being consumed by the rising tide. He moved for the first time in an age, his arms outstretched, his face thrown back. The Eclipse would bridge his world's shadow with the shadow of the blue world, a bridge that he would cross to fulfill that most basic of needs. Cold hunger woke as the shadow crossed over him, engulfing him with a malicious desire. For the course was none other than the fears of those whom had banished him to this sterile world, and even greater than the hunger that wracked his form, was the burning thirst for revenge.

Chapter 2: Of Faux Hopes

Golden light spilled across the tops of the ancient elms of Hoenn. The morning sun brought with it the songs of Taillows and the thrum of Nincadas. Reaching over the roof of the trees, the rays of light caressed the town of Glavisdale, waking the residents to the brightly crested new day. One resident in particular, was less than happy to greet this beautiful morning. Jordan rose with a feeling of unease, for his sleep had been troubled and a primordial fear clutched at him. the warming light freed him from his nightly terrors, though a sense of foreboding held his guts in a vice.

What was the dream about? Jordan struggled to recall what exactly had caused him such grief.

A Green Eye… Yet for all the terror that the dream had inspired, Jordan could remember no more.

It must be something to do with the date. Jordan concluded glumly. After all, today was the fifth anniversary.

Jordan dressed himself and headed downstairs for a light breakfast. Today was the Zangoose School of Martial Arts tournament and his participation was expected by his old master. It had been years since Jordan had joined the competition, and though he had never ceased his personal training, he doubted his ability to bring satisfaction to his master. It was less a question of his skill, and more a question of his drive. Five years to the date had passed since the accident, and though time had dulled the edge of his conscious, it had yet to free him from the sharpness of his guilt. Jordan finished his breakfast, and brought a platter of food and a kettle of tea to his mother's room. He paused at the door, and gently rapped upon it.

"Jordi, honey... is that you?" Her muffled voice suggested he had just woken her.

"Breakfast, Mother." Jordan replied, waiting patiently at the door.

"Well then bring it in, dear." She said after a few moments.

Jordan opened the door to her room, balancing the platter and teapot on the palm of his free hand. His mother had propped herself up on her bed and looked at him expectantly. Crossing the room to her bed, Jordan placed the platter across her knees and the kettle upon her night stand. He looked at her, discreetly analysing her pleased expression, trying to ascertain the state of her mind today. It looked as if it would be a good day for her, though what kind of good depended upon whether she remembered or…

"Is your sister ready for school yet?"

Jordan's heart sank, but he had a lie prepared just in case of such an eventuality.

"Chrissie headed out already, said she wanted to get to class early." Jordan lied through his teeth. Better to preserve a good mood for his mother than to retell her the truth she struggled to deny.

"You let her go alone? Jordan, don't tell me you let her go alone!" His mother was highly anxious, clearly recalling a reason she didn't want Chrissie to be left alone.

"I walked her to the school earlier. Mrs. Capella said to say hello." This wasn't the first time Jordan had used this story, far from it. Yet every telling made Jordan sick with himself.

"Oh… well… I could've… Did Mrs. Capella say anything else?" Jordan's mother began to calm down, wrapping herself tightly in her cocoon of fabric and fantasy.

"I didn't stick around mother, I had to get back home and prepare for the tournament." Jordan explained patiently. The fact that Jordan was actually attending a tournament today, as opposed to every other time he told the story, only served to deepen the guilt.

"A tournament today?" Jordan's mother sighed.

"Jordan, you could've woken me earlier. I could've taken your sister to school."

"I don't mind, mother." Jordan was quick to intervene. The last thing he wanted was his mother feeling guilty over his lie.

"Anyways, I wanted to get an early stretch and walk in before the tournament"

"Closed doors?" Jordan's mother inquired as to the nature of the tournament.

"Dojo members are the only ones allowed in." Jordan replied.

She sighed as she sank back into her pillows.

"Jordan Garret Stone, do you ever think that you do too much?"

Jordan poured his mother the tea, choosing not to answer his mother's query. As if on cue, she started to cough.

"Here you are, mother. It's chamomile."

She took the tea, waiting to catch her breathe before sipping at the rim of the cup.

"Such a thoughtful boy. I am truly blessed to have such a caring son such as you." Jordan's mother beamed at him over her breakfast.

Jordan watched her quietly. Five years had past, and he had grown from an adolescent into a young man. The world had continued to turn even in light of the tragedy, yet his mother was oblivious to the passage of time. The head cold she bore on that fateful morning five years ago had long since faded, yet her mind fabricated the illness for her, and even with a day's old stubble on his jawline, she still saw Jordan as the grown boy he had been on that distant morning.

"I suppose you should get ready for your tournament then." Jordan's mother suggested.

"I'm just going to sleep a little longer, maybe the pain will stop when I wake up."

Jordan had been waiting a long time for her wake up. Maybe then they could overcome the pain together. And maybe, maybe she may come to forgive him. Jordan took the platter, but left the teapot upon the nightstand. He returned the dishes to the kitchen, and headed to the bathroom to shave his scruff. Staring at himself in the mirror, he was reminded of the green eye he'd seen in his dream. An involuntary shudder shook Jordan's slender, muscled frame. The sooner he got out of the house the better, though thinking of the tournament caused Jordan to hesitate.

For the last five years, Jordan repeatedly turned down the regular invitations sent by the master of the dojo. The dojo had been the axis of his life at one point, and now Jordan saw it as a monument to his failures. The discipline, the balance of mind and body, and the martial skills he had developed under the tutelage of his master had been the center of Jordan's focus, and yet it he could not bring himself back into that life. Jordan's mother needed him, and he had yet to sate his desire for penance.

Today though, Jordan felt it would different. Today, he would walk back into that home away from home, and maybe leave it with that measure of hope that Jordan sought. Today, Jordan would return to the dojo, and participate in the tournament. His morning duties completed, Jordan stepped out into the street, and breathed in the fresh morning air. A Taillow flew past, trilling loudly in the crisp blue sky. Jordan managed a faint smile and pushed thoughts of green eyes from his mind. Today was the first new day in a long time. Today would be different.

Chapter 3: The Story in his Eyes

Jordan arrived at the dojo, an old warehouse on the outskirts of town converted into a school of martial arts. Jordan had long outgrown his old Gi, but brought his obi as proof of membership. Unfamiliar faces greeted Jordan with suspicion, though they did not bar his entry.

It's been a long time, Jordan thought, breathing in the smell of sweat and industrial cleaner.

So many new students, Jordan noticed.

So many hopeful youths. Jordan sighed. The old memories came back to Jordan in a wave of old warehouse was sparsely decorated, four white walls made up the training room of the dojo and a partition in the far back marked the entrance to master's quarters. The pristine and spartan white of the walls were broken only by a row of poles for students to hang their coats and obis upon. Within the dojo, the color of your belt amounted to nothing. All were equals in this place. Jordan's old pole was the one closest to the master's quarters, which strangely, was the only one empty. Jordan hung his obi on it's old pole, succumbing to a strong feeling of familiarity. He had stood in this very room, smiling those same smiles, shouting in time with those strikes. All around him he saw himself five years past. Feeling a little overwhelmed, Jordan knelt upon the practice mats and awaited the master.

Kato, or "The Master," as he was known to his students, appeared from his quarters in the rear of the warehouse. His arrival was greeted by an orderly dash of all within the dojo. Running to their respective grades and mats, the pupils were sorted into groups based off of skill. 6th dan was marked by their red and black mats, and were the elites of the master's pupils. Jordan had once stood among their ranks, and though he had never ceased the rigors and scales of the art, he had fallen out of practice do to his lack of combat training. Jordan stood apart and distant, still wondering if he was here to compete, or to spectate.

Kato surveyed his students, all of whom were assuming the rest position, straight back, arms and legs apart, and shoulders thrown back. A man of seventy two, Kato looked little more than mid forty. His stance was of command and his expression was that of a man whom knew nothing of uncertainty. Graced with a certain gravity possessed only by those who were respected and notoriously patient, he stood detached from his students, and yet was the center of their world. Kato's glance passed over all, and paused only briefly on his long lost pupil. Shouting his traditional greeting, more of a grunt then anything else, his students returned to their knees. Kato walked around the room, and paused at every group. Lastly, he came to Jordan. Kato circled his old student twice, before placing his hand upon Jordan's shoulder. Pulling Jordan to his feet, Kato steered him towards the mat's of 6th dan. Jordan couldn't help but feel a little trepidation; clearly his master intended him to compete.

The Master said nothing as he retired to his own mat. Without a word he began the warm up stretches. His students mirrored his every move. Everyone, Jordan included, knew the master's warm up routine. After fifteen minutes of stretches, sways, and balances, the master motioned to the members of the 10th Kyu. The tournament had begun.

This was not a tournament for trophies or chest beating, it was a yardstick of the pupil's development. Member's greatest prize was advancement into the next rank. Victory meant little, advancement was bestowed according to merit, and merit was earned according to a student's skill and determination. From 10th Kyu to 9th, from 9th to a mix of 8th and 7th, the tournament progressed throughout the various grades. Three hours later, the tournament turned it's attention to the red and black mats of 6th dan, and the members of 6th dan would comprise the final stage. Consisting of five members, the master normally stood in to even those numbers. However, having Jordan within the ranks of 6th dan, they now numbered six. The master motioned to 6th dan, and Jordan rose with his peers.

"Kyle, Michael." Kato called out the names of the first contenders. The remaining members of 6th dan cleared from the mat. Kato stood between the two competitors, looking one within the eyes, and then peering into the eyes the other. Without any further ado, the master marched off the mat, and had yet to sit when he uttered that crucial word.

"Begin." Kato grunted.

A flurry of blows and shouts proceeded. The battle between two of the master's most skilled pupils was an awe inspiring sight. Even Jordan's stoic demeanor was dampened beholding the exchange of two artists, both who bordered the cusp of limitations imposed by the human body. Three round were given to the member's of 6th dan, and each breathtaking dance ended due to the master's intervention, rather than a difference in ability. The first pair ended their contest in a tie. The second pair began and ended their third round with as much a balance of skill and respect as the first duo.

"Avery, Jordan."

The final bout. Jordan felt the weight of his master's stare, as Jordan strode to his position across from his opponent. Kato stood between the two contenders, his heavy gaze falling first upon Avery, and then upon Jordan. Jordan met his master's eyes unblinkingly.

"You can read a man's heart by the pressure exerted by his eyes," one ofKato's few utterances had been a lesson on measuring your opponent.

"But to truly understand the depth of his nature, eyes alone will never tell his story. Read his face, his posture, feel the weight of his bearing. Does he bask in confidence, or radiate mere cockiness? Does he know that you measure him? Does he measure you in return? He tells his tale with every fiber of his being. You must know how to read these fibers, to know his story, and in doing so, see your story reflected by his."

Kato's old adage rang in Jordan's ears. He returned his master's stare.

What do you see, old man? Jordan wondered, attempting to read his master.

Your story is elusive as ever.

Kato's glance fell, and Jordan could have sworn that, for a split second, Kato's face twisted with sadness. Kato marched from the mat. Kneeling upon his mat, Kato uncharacteristically paused, looking long and hard at the edge of the mat.

"Begin."

Avery shouted and assumed a defensive stance, clearly wishing to take measure of this stranger the master had arranged for him to fight. Jordan remained silent and matched his opponent's stance. Moments passed, neither contender shifted from their pose. Jordan had lost perception of time. A blur of faces and distant white walls barely registered at the edge of his consciousness. Before Jordan was his opponent, a shape with limbs and eyes, a collection of nerves and tubes of fluid. Not even human. Such complex perceptions escaped Jordan. Him and his opponent. Nothing else.

Avery broke the standstill. With a cry and surge, he charged Jordan. No cry responded to Avery's attack. Jordan saw every move before it happened. Every strike was intercepted, every blow was effortlessly deflect. Jordan countered Avery's every motion, his silence and unmoving gaze giving him the aspect of a spectre. Avery ceased his rapid combo of attacks and switched to a less exhaustive strategy. Testing his opponent's defences, Avery sought some weak point, some opening to exploit. Jordan willingly gave one such weakness to him, leading Avery's softened blows to his lower body. Allowing one of Avery's feints to make contact, Jordan surprised him with a series of blows to Avery's exposed head, following up with a solid kick to Avery's inner thigh. Avery, though momentarily stunned, intercepted the kick, and attempted to spin Jordan onto the mat. Using the strength of his captured leg, Jordan pulled his opponent beneath the spin, and pinned Avery to the mat with his knee. Throwing his weight over his knee and scissoring Avery's wrist within one hand, Jordan winded back his free arm, and aimed his strike towards Avery's throat. Pulling his blow short, Jordan shifted his weight over Avery's sternum. Unable to pull himself off of his back, Avery lost the first round.

A shout from the master, and Avery and Jordan stood on opposite ends of the mat again.

"Begin."

Avery skipped the defensive and launched a full on offensive. Leading with a single powerful downwards strike, Avery put all of his weight behind his fist, while his spare arm stood a measured distance between his torso and head, ready to deflect any countering blow. The intelligent counter from Jordan would be to direct the initial blow away from his body and throw a feint at the defensive arm. While Jordan's opponent struggled to find their balance, and with their initial counter spent, Jordan could attempt to exploit those few precious split seconds with a series of light jabs. Instead, Jordan stepped outside the teachings of Kato. Swinging his arm on an outside feint, Jordan reversed tactics and swung his arm back to the inside, catching Avery's initial blow and directing the power of the punch to the center of Jordan's own shoulder. Deflecting your opponent's blow was the first lesson Kato taught his students. Never had he advocated directing an opponent's blow to one's body. Taking the punch in his shoulder, Jordan locked Avery's arm with his, and flung a single full powered strike to Avery's lower gut, just between the pelvis. Jordan's first strike knocked the wind from Avery's lungs, and Jordan's second strike stunned Avery's diaphragm with an upwards palm to the solar plexus. Using the locked arms as a pivot, Jordan threw his opponent bodily to the mat. With Avery choking for air, the second round went to Jordan.

Kato looked to his lost student. Jordan's dead expression was set in stone. Even when Avery's blow had landed squarely on Jordan's shoulder, no change had crossed Jordan's face. Kato's lost student had once answered shout to shout, smiling as he cross blows with his opponents, laughing and high-fiving with his comrades in the space between rounds. Now Jordan said nothing, saw nothing, and felt nothing. A barren island in an sterile ocean floating in an infinite empty space. Had five years changed nothing in his lost student? Was Jordan damned to live without hope and to relive his grief anew every day? Jordan raised his eyes from his downed opponent and met his master's gaze. Kato stared into emptiness. A vessel of nothing, where hope was not even a thing, and where feeble dreams were denied the luxury of acknowledgement or pursuit. When Kato could stand the pain no longer, his gaze passed to Avery. Avery was not in any shape to continue. Avery would recover, but it would require time and rest.

The other members of 6th dan lifted Avery off of the mat, and placed him on a nearby cot. Jordan turned and knelt upon the outskirts of the the mat. Kato rose suddenly and strode onto the mat.

"Jordan." Kato motioned to the opposite end of the mat.

"Take your position."

Though his expression had never changed, Jordan hesitated. Kato did what he had so rarely needed to do before. Taking a deep breath, Kato prepared to repeat himself.

"Jordan!" Kato roared.

"Take your position on the mat!"

Jordan rose immediately, and strode onto the mat. Kato threw his shoulders back, let out a shout, and raised his arms in a sparring position. Though Kato's expression was as calm as ever, those close to him saw a troubled glint in the old man's eyes. Jordan silently matched his master's stance and stare.

Come boy, Kato thought.

Show me your story.

Jordan's eyes were cold and unmoving, but upon hearing his master's unspoken request, a sudden pleading look broke his impassable expression. A wave of pain, so intense and surreal, rose within Jordan, flooding the nothingness inside of him. Jordan's gaze fell. He reversed his stance and fell into a prone slump. Pivoting on the heel of one foot, Jordan turned and quickly marched off the mat and headed straight for the exit, leaving his obi behind. Kato maintained his stance as Jordan grasped the handle to the door that led into the outside world.

"Jordan," Kato shouted across the dojo. Jordan paused, holding the door partially opened.

"It was never your fault."

Jordan's shoulders heaved, and he pushed the door open. Stepping back out into his cold world, Jordan left Kato and his dojo behind. Kato reversed his stance and took a moment to collect himself, before addressing his stunned students.

"The tournament has concluded." Kato began.

"We will finish the review tomorrow. You may all go home."

Kato never moved from his mat, nor had his gaze left the door. His students left quietly, including the wounded Avery. Only after the last pupil had passed through that door, and it's latch clicked shut did Kato move. A hand found it's way to his face to wipe away the tears that welled from the once unbreakable countenance. He now seemed a broken old man, alone with his loss.

Chapter 4: Running to the Past

Jordan's feet moved of their own volition, carrying him on an old haunt of his. He had no name for the turmoil within. After living so long in the shadow of despair, Jordan had become accustom to this overwhelming feeling of guilt. Despite it's frequency however, Jordan was never prepared for the pain. Jordan's fevered pace changed suddenly to a run.

The sounds of gunfire rang out over the neighborhood, stirring everyone within the dojo, halting the final round between Jordan and his mentor.

Jordan's speed became something furious. He had to outrun the surge of memories.

Kato rallied his students into his personal quarters, grabbing a coat rack and shaking it free of the garments that hung to it. Jamming the head of the coat rack against the doorknob of the warehouse, Kato attempted to barr the entrance to the dojo.

Jordan's breath felt as if it had set fire to his throat, and a dry burn rooted itself in his chest. He would not slow down, he had to keep running.

An explosion thudded in the distance, shaking the dojo hard enough to loosen plaster from the roof. Kato tossed open a trapdoor in the floor, a utility shaft to some of the old warehouse's plumbing. Kato instructed his students to hide into the tunnel which he would cover when they were safely below ground.

"Stay quiet, and do not attempt to leave the tunnel, no matter what you hear from above in the dojo."

His breath ragged, mouth dry and his legs seemingly incapable of translating any sensation other than an unsteady numbness, Jordan continued to run.

"But Jordi, you're suppose to take me to school! Mommy said so!"

"I'm going to be late to the tournament because you had to hide my obi! You can walk to school yourself!"

Not this part… Please not this part again… Jordan's body had stopped hurting, his surroundings had faded away. His feet knew the way even if his heart begged him to stopped.

"Jordi I can't, I don't know the way. If I get lost and something bad happens it will be all your fault! And then I will tell mommy!"

"You should have thought of that before you hid my obi! Now you can walk to school yourself!"

"It's just a stupid belt… Jordi, don't go! I'm scared!"

"I'll pick you up after the tournament, and then we can get a victory sundae to celebrate my new obi!"

"Jordi, stop… please, Jordi, don't leave me… please…"

Jordan's frantic pace slowed, he was nearing his destination. He couldn't even hear himself gasping for air.

"Please…"

Jordan ducked below an old makeshift barricade that never meant to stand for so long. He entered a section of the town where nobody lived. Flowers were spread around the barricade, placed by families who had come on this anniversary to mourn for those who had been lost five years ago.

"I won't go down there! you need me master!" Jordan placed feet apart a crossed his arms, refusing to abide by Kato's declaration.

"Don't be an idiot, child! Get down below with the others!" Kato grabbed his ward by the shoulders and firmly pushed him towards the trapdoor.

"I won't leave you!" Jordan jammed himself against the lip of the tunnel.

"I want to fight with you, I want to protect the others!" An explosion shook the building. Again, the gunshots, howls, screams and jeering carried through the walls of the dojo. The fighting was getting closer. Kato stared into his pupils eyes. Defiance, fierce and commanding stared back him.

"I am not afraid." Jordan said, his voice strong and impassive. Kato paused, looking at his student with disbelief.

"Then you truly are a fool." Kato shut the trapdoor and dragged his dresser over it. Taking Jordan by the shoulders, Kato led him to the training room. The gunshots were deafening, the battle must have moved right in front of the dojo.

"Stand behind me boy, and be ready." Kato fixed his long stare upon the doorway and fell into a limber stance. Kato, despite the circumstances, felt his heart swell with pride when his student fell into position behind him.

'We might just make it out of this alive' Kato dared dream.

Jordan stumbled through the ruined streets, the burned out remains of houses surrounded him. Jordan began to regain sensation in his limbs again.

The door never opened, and the fighting moved on. Hours went by before the battle moved out of town. Jordan and Kato wandered out into the streets, into a world neither recognised. Bullet holes covered the walls, and both pokemon and men lay dead in the road. Fires smoldered all around them. Both turned to the south, where a billowing black cloud of smoke filled the sky.

"Look for survivors, boy." Kato's voice sounded faint.

Jordan stopped dead on the road, staring coldly at a patch of asphalt, seemingly indiscernible from the surrounding street. Jordan's fists clenched, his knuckles turned white, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Please…"

Jordan's head was ringing, and his body went cold. Jordan fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around the asphalt.

"Please…"

"I'm sorry, Chrissie… I'm so sorry…"

Chapter 5: A Son's Love

It was late afternoon when Jordan rose from his vigil. Though consumed by loss and guilt, not a single tear had fallen. He had long ago spilled all the tears a man could shed in a lifetime. It wasn't a conscious decision; Jordan had simply lost the ability to cry.

"I should get home." Jordan said to patch of asphalt.

"Mother may need me." The patch of asphalt said nothing, and Jordan started the long route home.

Five years ago, this ruined little town had served as home to two little known environmentalist groups, both with opposing philosophies on human and pokemon's interactions with the world around them. Though disagreements were inevitable, strong leadership and a shared respect between members prevented any conflict. Then, only five years ago, both parties withdrew from the public's eyes. Whispers overheard between members hinted at a discovery and an "ultimate solution." The peaceful demonstrations gave way to freak accidents involving the deaths in the hierarchies of both groups. Then the fights broke out. Bar brawls, gang wars, vandalism. The people of Glavisdale pressed the authorities to intervene, and the violence suddenly stopped. For a while it seemed everything would go back to normal. Formal and public apologies were exchanged and graciously accepted by the organization's two most prominent leaders. Both leaders assured the public that peace was guaranteed. Only five years ago, that fictitious peace was broken, spontaneously and violently changing the aspect of Glavisdale forever. Both organizations had stockpiled large weapons caches, and had begun training their own private armies of trainers and pokemon.

Five years to the date, all hell broken lose in the town of Glavisdale.

No one knew who attacked who, or what had led up to the following calamity, but in the span of one night, half of Glavisdale was consumed by absolute war. Approximately one-fourth of the town's population had been claimed in the conflict, and the two environmentalist organizations disappeared into the underground, leaving only a mountain of nameless bodies and haunted memories. Among those claimed in the fight was girl named Chrissie, Jordan's little sister. She had died in the jaws of some pokemon, mauled to death, her tattered body left to rot in the dying sun. Chrissie had died in a part of a neighborhood she wasn't even suppose to be in, miles away from the school that Jordan was suppose to have deliver Chrissie to. Jordan though, would have rather attended a tournament then see to his sister's safety. It was Jordan's fault she had died, and Jordan would hear it no other way.

Jordan was the one who discovered his sister's corpse. It was half buried in rubble and so torn up that Jordan mistook it for just another piece of debris. Only when he recognised his sister's black and white floral dress did he succumb to numbing horror. Jordan ran. He ran away from the smoking ruin of his home town, ran away from his beloved mentor's desperate shouts for him to return, ran away from that thing on the ground, that piece of meat, bone, and cloth that had been his sister, ran away from the pressing realization that he responsible. Jordan ran, and he didn't remember when he stopped. Jordan didn't remember how he got back to town covered head to foot in blood, three days later. Didn't remember where the blood had come from, or how it had gotten there. Jordan's mother had been the head nurse at the local Pokemon Center, and the place entered lock-down the instant the conflict began. Upon learning of her daughter's death and the disappearance of her son, Jordan's mother had entered a deep and impenetrable shock.

Kato had found Jordan, that much was clear. Kato had washed him and delivered him to his ailing mother, whom many believed would die of starvation if she could not be reached. Jordan's voice was feeble and desperate when he called to her, pulling her out of her vegetable-like state. But despite returning to her son, Jordan's mother had failed to return to reality. Every day, Jordan's mother would relive that traumatizing day, everyday she had to be convinced that her daughter was dead and that her son had become a man. Every night she would deny all of it, until she forgot it all in a blissfully oblivious sleep.

Jordan had learned how to cope with his mother's less than healthy lifestyle. He worked two jobs to put food on the table, and managed the upkeep of the house. His free time was spent caring for his mother, or seeking some small solace in the practice of Kato's art. But until today he could not return to his master's home. The pinnacle of his youth had become a temple to his sins. The combined outcomes of Jordan's blatant disregard for his sister's safety, his indignity at her small petty prank, and his fervent obsession to please his master had soured any fond memories Jordan had of his childhood.

To Jordan, it was less than he deserved. Above all else, Jordan wanted punishment. Jordan wanted to be made to suffer for his sins. But the people of Glavisdale, far from punishing him, pitied him instead. Jordan hated pity. No one would punish him for an "event beyond his control," everyone forgave him for "an ignorant mistake." Jordan hated that. He had revoked control when he turned his back on his sister, and his ignorant mistake had claimed both the life of Chrissie and the sanity of his mother. How could anyone forgive such actions so freely? His mother at least, recognised Jordan's crimes and found them beyond forgiveness. In a way, this was the most tragic piece of the story. Jordan longed to be hated by everyone, but yearned for his mother's love. A love that Jordan knew he had lost, and would never again deserve.

Now entering the populated portion of Glavisdale, it alarmed Jordan to discover that life continued for the rest of the world. Meals were set for smiling families and the world turned round. How anyone could laugh or cavort in light of the anniversary was beyond him. Jordan paused, leaning on a gate trying to adjust to it all.

A car sputtered by, the radio blaring trendy tunes, even as pack of growlithe pups cooed and played with one another. A girl screamed at her mother, refusing to go to bed because "the sun was still up!" Even the news made light of the anniversary, the cover storing went on and on about the Darkrai Eclipse.

"Get a good look at the moon tonight, because it's the last time we will see it for a whole year! It's been almost 3000 years since the last Darkrai Eclipse, and for those of you who haven't caught on, here's historian and world explorer, Cynthia, to give you the details.

'Thank you, Malva. Now as my esteemed colleague has already mentioned, it's been 3000 years since the last Darkrai Eclipse, a natural phenomenon where the alignment of our planet and the moon hold geosynchronous position for a solid year, causing a three hundred and sixty four day long lunar eclipse, or the Darkrai Eclipse as our ancestors dubbed it 3000 years ago, after the last great war had ended and religious persecution of pokemon once considered deities began...' "

"A mass grave was filled in this town five years ago, and all you can talk about is the fucking moon." Jordan's face hardened.

"Fuck you Malva, Fuck you Cynthia, and fuck your fucking moon."

Jordan turned away from the happy little world these fools created for themselves, and found his way to his home. Before entering, Jordan cleansed his mind of all his anger. With great effort, he purged the disgust from his heart, and opened the door to his house.

"Mother?" Jordan called out tentatively.

"I'm home." All of the lights were off, and the kitchen was in same state Jordan had left it in, meaning his mother had yet to eat. Guilt, such a familiar mistress, tore at Jordan's heart again.

"Mother?" Jordan knocked on the door to her bedroom. Waiting patiently, Jordan finally heard the sound that he'd been dreading. A watery sob followed by sharp intakes of breath.

"Mother?" Jordan knocked gently on the door. As terrible as his day had been, he was prepared to make it that much worse.

"Go away!" Her anguished voice pierced Jordan to his core.

"Mother, is something wrong?" Something shattered on the other side of the door. It was going to be another one of those nights again.

"Mother, I'm coming in. Please be decent." Jordan slowly opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit room, carefully avoiding the shattered bits of the teapot that Jordan had left for her this morning, and which she had just destroyed.

She had left her bed, and had moved to her sitting chair. Swathed in an afghan blanket, and clutching something small and metallic, she huddled in a miserable ball. Jordan knew what she was holding. It was a picture frame of him, his mother and Chrissie. Taken back on Chrissie's sixth birthday, it was all smiles and candles. His heart ached everytime he saw that tasteless and evocative image. Blurry and discolored, warped around the edges and with all three occupants suffering from photon induced red-eye, it was most valued object in his mother's possession. Regardless of her current state of mind, it always brought an emotional reaction to her. On good days a smile, a laugh, and remensianse of how Jordan had wet himself when a clown had delivered Chrissie's cake. Jordan hated clowns. But on bad days, like today, it became her own little reminder of the hell her life had become. And the one who had brought this hell to her was standing across the room, daring to call her-

"Mother?"

"GET OUT!" She shrieked.

"Get out of my sight! Get out of my house! Get out of my life!"

Frantically, she began to throw everything within reach at Jordan, clutching the picture to her breast.

"I don't want see you ever again! I will never forgive you for what you stole from me! GET OUT!" Jordan stood in doorway, letting the debris hit him, taking it all in.

This is my punishment, Jordan reminded himself.

This is what I deserve. Despite his convictions, Jordan felt the greatest pain he knew in life, every fiber of his being screamed at him run, to leave, to never, never come back.

"Get out! I can't stand to look at you!" Jordan's mother took a shaky breath, just enough air to hurl her final curse.

"I WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN! I WISH YOU HAD DIED THAT DAY TOO! LOOKING AT YOU MAKES ME SO SICK I CAN BARELY STAND IT!"

Jordan's heart, for all it's strength, for all it's iron defenses, broke beneath her onslaught. She had never, in all these five year, never ever said that to him before. Jordan turned and ran, for the second time today, ran far and fast from this new painful memory. His mother's words rang in his ears. This had scarred his soul as surely as Chrissie's death had. Jordan was dead to mother. She truly would never forgive him. Even if sleep brought her forgetfulness, even if every day after was a 'good day,' nothing could ever conceal the truth that had been festering in his mother's heart for so long now. As Jordan flew towards the hilly outlands, directly towards the rising moon, his mother ran her fingers across that horrible little photo.

"I want my little girl back…" She sobbed and choked on her tears.

"I want my little boy back..." Her voice cracked as grief consumed her.

Chapter 6: The Fucking Moon

Jordan ran, forcing his exhausted body on. Running away from the town, running away from his mother's words, running away from a pain that was too much for any man to bear. He had craved for this punishment, and at last, it had been served. Jordan had weathered his mother's grief-stricken fits for many a year. Each one, Jordan had stayed for, each one he had accepted. But this one, this one Jordan couldn't take.

This is what you wanted. Jordan collapsed, his body could take no more. Too bad for his body. Pushing himself up, Jordan staggered further into the waiting darkness.

This is what you deserve. His own voice screamed at him in his head, trying to deny what his heart was telling him. Clutching his aching head, Jordan collapsed again. This time he did not rise, but still managed a couple of feeble kicks at the earth beneath his feet, trying to find traction.

A pain so great that it would break you… rejoice! Now your suffering can truly begin!

"No." Jordan groaned.

"Not like this, please anything but this…"

You deserve this! Don't run from your judgement!

"Not mother, please… don't take mother away!"

You deserve this.

"Don't Leave me!"

"I WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN!"

"It was never your fault."

"Jordi please!"

"YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED THAT DAY TOO!"

"You're a fool, boy"

"You left me to die, Jordi"

"I CAN NEVER FORGIVE YOU!"

"All of this is your fault, boy."

Jordan's world faded, and he knew no more.

When Jordan finally awoke, he was on his back, facing the starry sky. The moon had never looked so massive as did tonight, nearing the peak of its rising. He watched as a small round shadow crawled from the edge of the moon, Jordan watched it creep passed it's center, concealing all that fell beneath the shade of the world in darkness. Jordan watched as the newly crescent moon shrank to size of a toenail, watched as a final thin slice of light faded from the night sky. The moon had just disappeared, and would not appear again for year.

"I wish we could just move on…" Jordan whispered to the invisible moon.

"I wish mother could forgive me. I wish we could stop running from the past. I wish I had something worth running towards…"

'Your wish is my redemption.' A great black shadow fell over Jordan, smothering him in it's icy depths. Jordan struggled against its grip, as a single massive green eye held him with it's terrible gaze.

'Hush, my waking dreamer. Release yourself from your cursed existence and know true hell as only I can bestow.' A burst of painful light filled Jordan's eyes. With his blurred vision, Jordan could barely trace the source of light. It was a stone. A stone that shone white, black, and red. Jordan struggled all the more as the stone moved towards him.

'Take this seed into your heart, let it feed upon you, and when your life ebbs it's last unto it, I will arrive to harvest the fruits of your sorrows.'

The stone was pressed against Jordan's chest, gentle at first, but with increasing pressure. Hysterical terror drove his weary limbs into futile action.

'So did your ancestors fear me, and now their ancient craft is lost to the ages. So will you know such fear again, as all your kind shall relearn it. For none now live with the power to defeat me, and my reign over your darkest terrors shall begin anew. Darkrai, Bringer of Ill Omens, The Riverman of Nightmares, and Ruler of the Dark Moon itself, is free at last!

The stone crushed Jordan's ribs, blood pooled within his lungs and gushed up his throat and flowed from his mouth and nose, yet this demon pressed the stone into him all the harder. A sickening splitting noise alerted Jordan to what his nerves were already telling him. His chest cavity had been breached, and the stone was being pressed against his throbbing heart. Jordan opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. A spattering of blood was all he could manage.

'Sleep, my exquisite dreamer, sleep. Sleep and wake unto your living nightmare...'

Jordan passed out, drowning in his own blood.

'Sleep… sleep… and when you rise, rise into your perfect hell.'

Chapter 7: Another Day, Another Life

The songs of birds rang in Jordan's ears.

No… Not yet… I don't want to wake up yet… The pain of his mother's latest episode had yet to leave Jordan's mind.

Mother…

Something wet bumped into his face, accompanied by a heavy sniffling.

The green eye… Jordan bolted awake. Images flooded his mind, disjointed and terrible. The fear was so real, he could never have mistaken that for a dream. He had been restrained, taunted, mutilated… and he… he had died. A cold sensation spread from his neck through his body, a chill so severe it enshrouded his heart and slowed his pulse to a crawl.

I died last night…

The memories of Jordan's previous day faded as he relived the moment of his death. He remembered the moment his chest had been punctured, remembered feeling his ribs being driven into his lungs.

The blood... There was so much blood… no one could lose that much blood and live. Yet as certain as Jordan was about his death, Jordan knew he was alive. He could no more explain his conviction of his living as Jordan could explain his conviction of his death.

What happened to me… A growling interrupted his thoughts. Jordan looked up. A Zigzagoon bared its teeth at him. It's wet nose had waken him. Clearly, this Zigzagoon wanted Jordan off of it's turf.

Go away! Jordan swung at the furry pest, and froze solid. Something large and red struck at the Zigzagoon, and the red thing stopped dead when Jordan saw it. The Zigzagoon jumped back, then lunged and bit into the red thing. Pain triggered a reflex, and Jordan watched another, similar red thing swing at the Zigzagoon. This red thing made contact, throwing the Zigzagoon off of the other red thing. The Zigzagoon yelped and scurried into the surrounding brush. Jordan stared at the red things in horror as the realization dawned upon him. Those red things were his arms!

Tentatively, carefully, Jordan held both arms in his line of sight. Examining them, he noticed the red coloration was do to a thick layer of feathers. Following his feathered forearm further up it's length he beheld the grotesque, and ultimately inevitable, conclusion. A scaly brown, three toed talon occupied the region of his body where his hand should have been. Jordan refused to look down his arm. He had no want to discover what the rest of his body looked like. An almost subconscious curiosity overtook his desire to maintain his sanity. Hesitantly Jordan examined his shoulder, and then he dared to look down at his torso.

Oh God… what… why?

More red feathers accompanied by a collar of long white bristles that crisscrossed his chest like a vest. Out of the corner of his eyes, Jordan traced feathered legs, yellow and red, ending in ragged tufts akin to bell bottom pants.

This can't be real.

It was. Jordan knew it was real, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. The piece de resistance had yet to have been beheld. Something blurred the normally clear line of sight between Jordan's eyes, and judging from the color, it wasn't a bit of dirt on his nose. Feeling rather squeamish, Jordan hesitantly raised one of his new talons to his face, and met resistance well before he should have, if his face would have fit within a human frame. Jordan's other talon rose to feel this strange protuberance that had attached itself to his head. Maybe 'grown out of his head' was the proper phrasing. It was hard, large, and covered in a skin possessing the texture of a fingernail. And it was red. Running his talon further back, noting the sensations his nerves were broadcasting; assuring Jordan that it was a part of him, Jordan discovered a bony crest that extended a couple of inches above either eye. Further back there were more bristles, heavier and more robust than the ones on his chest. They had to be, in order to hold up two bizarre bristly fins behind his head. Tugging them forward, Jordan discovered that they, like the bristles on his chest, were white.

Jordan was at a loss. First dying, then resurrecting, and now this. How did any of this make sense? From what Jordan could gather, he had turned into a giant bipedal, wingless bird. A giant red bipedal, wingless bird.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO ME?!" Jordan screamed to the heavens. The thing was, he didn't scream. He trilled. Clapping both talons over his beak, Jordan tried to say it again. He trilled once more. His voice was gone.

"Jordan," Jordan tried to say.

"Joor-daan. Ja-or-duh-inn." Coos and watery whistles were the only sounds he could produce.

I can't talk… I can't speak… Jordan realized with profound horror. A moment passed, then an idea kick started him into action. Rolling over, Jordan carved his name into the dirt. Following that he wrote 'I am Jordan, what happened to me?' He moved back to survey his work, and released another horrible gurgling whistle. Jordan thought that he had written words, but no one would ever mistake those scratches for letters. Again and again, Jordan wrote the message, and everytime he failed. It wasn't even a matter of legibility. It just looked like random lines in the dirt.

I can't speak, and I've forgotten how to write. I died last night and today I woke up alive as a creepy bird. What the hell did that thing do to me?

That thing. How had Jordan forgotten about that thing? It had killed him. It had pushed that stone into his chest. It had said something to him, mocked him, but for all the screaming and terror, Jordan could not recall what it had said. But Jordan knew that it had done this to him.

Why? If Jordan could just remember what it had said, he might be able to discern some kind of intention from it's words. Jordan focused, and for all his efforts, all Jordan summon up was a green eye. Jordan shrank away from that eye involuntarily. Whatever that eye belonged to, his brain refused to acknowledge it.

I have to get help, I have to find someone who… Mother! Jordan lept to his feet, then froze and shrivelled.

Mother…

Jordan looked to the sky, battling the old pain that consumed him once more. The fact he had been turned into a monster paled in significance to that pain.

Mother… How do I begin? Do I even deserve your help? Jordan stared long and hard into the blooming blue sky, wrestling with his conscious.

Chapter 8: The Best Wishes, The Worst Outcomes

Jordan approached Glavisdale. He could see it from this wooded hill. Nestled as his hometown was in the forest, it was difficult to see the entirety of Glavisdale from this distance. Not that Jordan wanted to. The trees hid the ruined part of town, and that was fine by him. What was far from fine was that Jordan didn't know what he'd do when he got to Glavisdale. Pokemon trainers were few and far between in Glavisdale. Most had thrown in with the two environmentalist organisations, and summarily moved out five years hence. Not one of the trainers currently living in Glavisdale had a giant red bird for a pokemon. Of those trainers who remained, most notably was Cooper, the town's closest thing to a local pokemon champion. Cooper apparently had made it as far as Victory Road, but had never managed to see the end of it. Now he moped around town, challenging any trainers who passed through to a battle. Cooper had won most of these challenges, cementing his reputation as the best pokemon trainer in Glavisdale.

The people of town know what trainer has what pokemon, and if I'm spotted it will likely cause a panic. Jordan couldn't blame them. Whatever he was, it wasn't on the roster of indigenous wild pokemon.

I'll have to stay low, and stick to cover. When I get to the house I'll… He would do what, exactly? Bring his insane mother breakfast and hope she'd act normal? Best case scenario: She'd think that he had dressed up as a bird, have her daily reenactment of what life had been like five years ago, and later remind her birdlike son how much he deserved to die. It was a stupid plan, and Jordan knew it. But Jordan saw no other alternative. He had to do something.

Jordan approached the outskirts of town. The deluded once-human-now-pokemon had convinced himself that this was the point of no return. Once he scaled the town wall, he would go forth with his insane, desperate, futile plan. Maybe Jordan would get killed in the process.

Hell, it would fix more than one problem. Jordan thought nervously. All jokes aside though, Jordan had no intention of dying. He needed his mother's forgiveness before he would even think about dying. Before he could get his mother's forgiveness, he had to lose the bird look. Jordan was desperate, and he knew it. The very moment that Jordan had tried to forget what his mother had told him last night, Jordan knew he'd never been so desperate in his life.

The town wall loomed up ahead. Jordan knew a location where he could climb it and descend into secrecy. The wall around the ruins still stood, and no one would go back to that hellhole for anything other than to mourn. Jordan ran round the outside of the wall until he came to the part that surrounded the ruins. Looking for a handhold of some kind, Jordan found a crumbling section of wall. leaping for the lowest crack, Jordan proceeded to wonder how he had cleared the entire height of the wall, flying past it's highest partitions and up to a height that would have alerted half the town to his presence if he'd attempted such a feat in a more populous region.

That was almost thirty feet! Jordan touched down without any error, as if he descended from such heights naturally.

How strong is this body? Jordan wondered, staring back at the wall he'd just scaled. Turning his attention off of his newfound limitations, Jordan looked around. As expected, no one was here. Now to figure out where here was.

Jordan had spent more time in the ruins than any other resident of Glavisdale. That said, Jordan had only ever gone as far as Chrissie's resting place. Jordan stopped thinking. Jordan stopped worrying about his current predicament.

Chrissie… Jordan couldn't pass through here without first going to see his little sister. Jordan spied a half burned steeple a couple blocks down and began walking towards it. That was his landmark.

Oh Chrissie, how you would laugh at me now… Jordan knelt before Chrissie's piece of asphalt.

"Why did you go and turn into a big dumb bird, Jordi?"

I didn't mean to.

"You look funny with a beak."

I can believe it.

"Can I paint your nails? They're so long and shiny!"

I'd prefer if you didn't. I look creepy enough as it is.

"How about a leash? Can I put you on a leash? Then I could take you walking in the park and bring you to school with me, and when Johnny goes on about his brother Cooper's dog I could be like…" Jordan bent low and placed his forehead against the asphalt.

I miss you, Chrissie… It took Jordan a moment to say good bye. It always stood up and turned to leave.

"Jordi, don't go."

Jordan turned back and sadly looked at the asphalt that had tortured him for the last five years.

I'm sorry Chrissie, but I have to. No matter what though, I'll always be with you. Despite his sincerity, the words felt cheap and ludicrous. Chrissie was dead, and no matter how he wished otherwise, Jordan knew his words would never reach her. A shudder ran the length of his body.

I love you, Chrissie.

If Jordan didn't know any better, he'd swear he had started crying. As it turned out, the blue morning was giving way to gray rain. Jordan turned his back on the rain spattered asphalt, and headed towards the still living ghosts of Glavisdale.

Jordan evaded detection fairly easily. Most people were indoors, still in bed. Those that were outside huddled beneath their umbrellas, heads cast down against the wind. Jordan made his way stealthily towards the center of town, and came at last to his house. Before risking entry, Jordan made a quick check of the outside. A glance around the front of the house proved most valuable. A woman beneath an umbrella ran to the front door and proceeded to knock.

What's going on? We never get visitors. Jordan wondered, somewhat apprehensive. His mother's condition did not allow her to put up with visitors of any sort, and Jordan was poor company due to his silence and stoicism.

What the hell is going on? Jordan quered, as the front door opened, and the woman stepped inside.

Jordan moved round the house, until the sounds of voices in kitchen drew him below the kitchen sill.

"I just don't know how you do it, your tea is perfect every time!" That was the voice of Mrs. Capella, Chrissie's old school teacher.

"Mmh." Jordan's mother made an uninterested sound. What was going on?

"Did you… Did you go to the memorial yesterday?" Mrs. Capella asked, a bit hesitantly.

"I… had to say goodbye. Again…" His mother answered, faintly.

Jordan risked a glance into the window. His mother was seated at the table, wearing her old nurse's uniform and smoking a cigarette over tea. Mrs. Capella was seated across from her, drinking her own tea and watching Jordan's mother.

"I can't believe it's been five years since they both died…" Jordan's mother stared into the smoke of her cigarette.

Both? Jordan froze. Many had died in the calamity, but Chrissie was the only one who had been close to his mother. Who else had died that she grieved for?

"I know it's hard... but we can make it through this, can't we?" Mrs. Capella sounded a bit desperate.

"I lost both my children to a war neither one of them should have been anywhere near… sometimes I wonder how I've made it this far."

Mrs. Capella placed her hand over his mother's hand.

"We can make it… just one day at a time." Mrs. Capella murmured.

Jordan felt cold all over again.

Both my children… What was his mother saying?

"I saw Kato there. The old man brought sake. Said Jordan would've been drinking age by now, wanted to know if I minded him having a drink with his favorite…" Jordan's mother burst into tears. Jordan went numb.

"Why did they have to die? What kind of god takes children away from their mothers?" Jordan's mother collapsed into Mrs. Capella arms. Mrs. Capella held Jordan's mother close, her own eyes watering.

Mother I didn't die! Mother I'm right here! I'm right… Jordan looked at his scaly forearm. He slumped against the wall.

I'm the monster outside your kitchen window, who can't speak, write or communicate to tell you that this… this thing... is your son.

"I'm sorry," Jordan's mother said.

"I didn't mean to lose control like that."

"Shh, It's okay." Mrs. Capella whispered.

"I miss them something awful too."

I died five years ago? I died last night… I was human yesterday. Now I'm… Jordan stared at his talons in horror.

What am I?

"I need to get to the pokemon center, I'm running late for work." His mother's voice sounded distant, it was barely able to penetrate the layer of loss and confusion that had been added to Jordan's existence.

Am I even me? Is Jordan who I really am? Are the last five years of my life some horrible dream?

"I'll walk with you, I don't have to get to the school for another hour." Mrs. Capella's voice didn't even register.

Or is this just some kind of living nightmare?

"POKEMON!"

Jordan snapped back into the world.

"THERE'S A WILD POKEMON IN THE TOWN!"

A man had stumbled across Jordan while he had been unaware of his surroundings. Now caught like a deer in the headlamps, Jordan's strained mind struggled to make a decision. Run away, or try to communicate? Foolishly, Jordan attempted to communicate. Spreading his arms in a gesture that Jordan hoped looked peaceful, Jordan walked towards the man.

"Stay away! Get back! HELP! IT'S ATTACKING ME!" Jordan stopped, hoping that the man would realize that Jordan wasn't trying to hurt him. A crowd had begun to gather, people were rushing from their houses to see what was going on. Lights flashed as people used their holocasters to snap pictures and make videos. Disorientated, Jordan staggered towards the crowd. People began to shriek, stampeding to get out of his way.

"Get out of the way! Let me handle this!" An irritated voice shouted above the crowd's din. The crowd made a clearing, and the last person in all of Glavisdale that Jordan had wanted to see strolled forward, and headed straight for him. It was Cooper, and his loyal Manectric was already out of it's pokeball.

"Don't know where you came from freak, but the only way you're leaving this town is in a pokeball on my belt." Cooper spat off to side, his Manectric put itself between Cooper and Jordan.

Oh hell no! This is not happening! Jordan began to panic, looking for an escape. He saw a row of trash cans that no one had gone near. Cooper followed his gaze.

"Don't even try…" Jordan bolted for the trashcans.

"Manectric! Thunder wave!" A powerful jolt of electricity caught Jordan mid jump. Jordan came crashing down into the trash cans. His body seized up from the jolt. His movements became twitchy as he struggled to pick himself back up. Jordan pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. His left leg refused to stop spasming. He faced Cooper and his Manectric. Running had failed miserably. His attempts at communication had been laughable. Jordan had one option left to him.

"Let's finish this now!" Cooper had a pokeball in hand.

"You're mine!" Cooper wound up his pitch.

Everything slowed down for Jordan. He saw his enemies, a blue and yellow blur, and a familiar meat wad loaded with softspots and weaknesses. He saw his opponents next move. Overhand, curving to the left. Jordan fell into a limber stance, ignoring the complaints of his body. his opponent made his move. Jordan made his to intercept and deflect.

Jordan caught the pokeball, it's button facing Cooper, aimed away from any part of Jordan. There was a gasp from the crowd. Cooper's face became a grimace. Jordan crushed the pokeball like an empty soda can. It fizzed and crackled in his iron grip. The crowd began backing away.

"I was trying to be nice," Cooper said said through gritted teeth.

"Now we gotta do this the hard way. Manectric!" Jordan tossed the ruined pokeball to the ground and shifted to a wide defensive stance, crouching low to better center his gravity.

"TAKE DOWN!" Cooper shouted. Manectric charged. It was fast. Jordan didn't if he could match that speed. Intercept and deflect. No. Anticipate and strike. Manectric was closing the gap, and as it did, Manectric lowered itself to the ground before it sprang back up into a high speed leep. Bingo. Manectric's course was set. Lifting his right leg above Manectric's trajectory and bending his weakened left knee, Jordan timed the execution perfectly. Swinging his right leg on top of Manectric's back and falling to his twitching left knee, Jordan put all of his weight and strength into his right thigh, driving Manectric into the pavement below. Yesterday, a blow like that would have crushed a man's ribs. Today, it collapsed the sidewalk beneath Manectric. The battle was over. Another gasp rose from the crowd. Cooper's cocky face broke. He began to breathe heavily.

"Manectric…" Cooper manage between shaky breaths. Jordan looked down. Manectric lay in the middle of a spiderwebbed paving slab. Blood oozed from it's mouth, nose, and anus. Jordan surveyed the damage with growing trepidation.

Did I kill it?

"Hey, G-Get away from-m Manectric! L-Leave him alone!" Cooper was actually crying. Did he love Manectric that much? Jordan stepped away from the injured pokemon. Cooper rushed forward.

"My Dog… YOU KILLED MY DOG!" Jordan watched as a grown man bawled his eyes out over the corpse of his pokemon.

"Manectric! MANECTRIC! DON'T DIE MANECTRIC!" Jordan felt horrible, the scene unfolding before him made no sense to Jordan. He wasn't a pokemon trainer. The only time Jordan even saw pokemon fighting was when Cooper battled other trainers, or when Indigo League was on the television. Jordan always thought pokemon put everything they had into the fight, and their trainers certainly egged them on to it. Jordan figured pokemon routinely died as a result grievous injuries sustained in battles, but the vibe that Jordan was picking up from Cooper was that this was not the case. Maybe Jordan should have been holding back. Like he did in Kato's tournaments between people.

"Everyone back up, I'm a nurse!" A woman separated herself from the crowd.

Mother! Jordan barely recognised her in her uniform. She crouched over Manectric, gently feeling around it's neck for a pulse.

"He's not dead yet. Someone call the pokemon center! We need a crash cart for a full grown male Manectric with multiple rib fractures, internal bleeding, and possible spine trauma!" Jordan's mother looked to Cooper.

"We're going to do everything we can for him." She reassured the weeping trainer.

Mother… Jordan hadn't seen her like this in what felt like an eternity. She was back! It was really her!

Mother! Jordan stepped towards her in blissful disbelief.

Mother! It's me, Jordan! She looked up at him.

"You..."

It's me! It's Jordan! I'm not dead! Jordan took another step forward, arms outstretched.

"Get out of here!"

Jordan froze. His arms lowered. Last night came roaring back.

"Get out of this town!"

Jordan began to shake.

Mother…

"Get out! There's no place for monsters like you in this town!"

In defiance he took a step forward. It was her! She was back! She knew who he was!

"GET OUT OF HERE! YOU'VE TAKEN ENOUGH FROM US ALREADY!"

It was his mother.

"GET OUT OF HERE! MONSTERS LIKE YOU MAKE ME SICK!"

Rocks were being thrown. Jordan didn't feel them. The crowd was jeering. Jordan didn't hear them. She didn't know him. She was back. She was who she should have been. And Jordan… Jordan was truly dead to her. Jordan turned and ran. He never even saw where he was going. He left the town, and kept on running.

Chapter 8: Reconciliation

Jordan looked through the trees at Glavisdale. It had been a week since he had last set foot in his home town. A week since his disastrous attempt at reaching out to his mother for aid. In that time, Jordan had established himself in the woodlands around his home, foraging the forest for fruits and hunting the rivers for fish. Jordan had had seen little in the way of pokemon, most fled at his coming. He'd seen even less of humans, as the residents of Glavisdale rarely left their town.

Home…

Jordan ached for his home. For the first time in a long while, he wanted to be there. He wanted to be with his mother.

Are you still okay, mother? Jordan wondered, staring at the town.

Are you working at the pokemon center again? Are you spending time with your friends? Jordan still could not believe that the woman in that town was the same person he had called mother. It had been so long since he'd seen her like that, Jordan didn't dare dream that it had been real.

Yet Jordan had changed. His bizarre transformation reflected the seemingly impossible change that had come over his mother. Jordan reflected on the words he had spoken before his humanity had been torn away from him.

"I wish we could move on… I wish mother could forgive me…"

Had some twisted, perverse interpretation of his wish been granted? Was all of this, Jordan becoming a pokemon, his mother's return to sanity, all part of a horrible attempt at a miracle?

'Your wish is my redemption...'

Jordan shuddered, and his vision blurred. Just recalling that thing's voice terrified Jordan to no end. But what did it mean? Had it granted him a wish? If so, what did it mean by it's redemption? Jordan left that train of thought. Regardless of that thing's intentions, it's memory stilled filled Jordan with anxiety.

But if this really is a wish come true… Jordan looked back at Glavisdale. With his decision backed by steely resolve, Jordan left the cover of the trees and headed towards Glavisdale.

Jordan carefully traced his way back to his house. Avoiding detection was easy enough, as few people looked to the roofs for giant red pokemon. Jordan leapt to the roof of his house, landing lightly enough so that the shingles barely creeked at his coming. It was late afternoon, and if his mother's schedule was what it had been in the past, she would be home soon. Jordan laid low on the upper part of the roof, well out of sight of anyone on the road. He waited patiently, watching the sun sink ever lower towards the horizon. Jordan heard voices on the street below. Women's voices. From his listening post, Jordan could understand little of what was being said. The door to the house opened, and voices faded inside.

Moving himself quietly towards the kitchen window, Jordan began making out bits of dialogue.

"Nine hours of surgery, I thought it would never end!" an unfamiliar voice said.

"We saved Manectric's life today, that should have been worth every hour." Jordan's mother replied.

"So the surgery was a success?" Mrs. Capella's voice asked.

"We managed to realign and pin some of the vertebrae back together, and we drain most of the excess fluid. That Manectric will live, but it's battling days are over."

"And Cooper?" Mrs. Capella pressed for details.

"The kid stayed by Manectric's side the entire time. Even when the surgery was finished, Cooper still refused to go home and rest!" The unfamiliar voice said.

"The bond between a trainer and their pokemon is something special. When you depend on each other just to get as far as Cooper did, you can't help seeing your pokemon as family." Jordan's mother explained.

"I guess so." Said the owner of the unknown voice

"Trust me, that Manectric is a whole lot more than some pet to Cooper." Jordan's mother reaffirmed.

So it did live. Thank God for that. Jordan still felt horrible over what he had done to Cooper and his Manectric. At least he hadn't destroyed their bond.

"So Manectric is alive, Cooper has crashed at the pokemon center, I take it. What about you two?" Mrs. Capella asked.

"I'm fine." Jordan's mother said, her voice slightly weary.

"Just a little tired."

Jordan fell back against the roof in awe. He still couldn't believe that his mother was having a conversation.

She's fine, Jordan though, somewhat bewildered.

She's… sane. Jordan thought that phrasing a bit harsh.

A little sad maybe, but normal.

Jordan continued listening to the conversation between the three women. His mother didn't have much to add after that, but the sound of her voice and the fact that she could finally accept reality filled Jordan with an unfamiliar sensation. He almost felt as if he could dance and laugh. As if such actions were acceptable. Jordan rested on the roof top, bathing in the light of the setting sun. He lingered for a while, long after his mother's guests had taken their leave. Jordan waited until the light from his mother's room flicked off, then waited a little longer. Carefully prying open a window in on the upper floor, Jordan snuck into his mother's house.

Mother… Jordan watched his sleeping mother toss on her bed, trying to get comfortable. Quietly, cautiously, Jordan tugged the sheets to his mother's chin, and gently pulled her pillow further under her head. She did not wake, but rather eased into slumber. Ceasing her tossing and turning, she could at last rest comfortably.

Mother, I wanted to talk to you, Jordan knelt beside her bed.

But I don't think that talking would work. I just… Jordan looked at her, wishing he had a voice.

I just wanted to tell you that… Jordan sighed, or rather wheezed, his new body seemingly incapable of translating the simplest of expressions into recognizable human behavior.

I'm happy for you mother. This may be difficult for you, and it's frustrating and terrifying for me, but… Jordan's mother stirred, causing Jordan to tense up. The moment passed and his mother returned to her deep sleep.

But I think it's better this way. For you I mean. Mother, I want to talk to you! I want to be here when you wake up! I want to laugh with you! I want to bring you breakfast! I want to be a family again… Jordan reached for his mother, but upon seeing his clawed talon extending towards her in the black of night, Jordan recoiled.

And... I want to talk…. talk about Chrissie, and how I can earn your forgiveness, but I can't… Jordan stared at his monstrous talons, a great sadness washing over him.

...Not like this.

Jordan watched his mother sleep, thinking of all the things he wanted to say. He watched and thought until he repeated those same thoughts, fought the urge to take his sleeping mother in both arms and hold her. He dreamed of her knowing him and holding him as well, and she would say, "My son, My son! I thought you were dead!" andJordan would look her in the eyes and say, "I'm not dead mother. I never left you." and then-

Stop it. Jordan thought, rising from his mother's side.

She won't know it's you, she'd scream and panic, and you would get chased out of town again. You're a monster. Deal with it. Jordan looked at his talons again.

If I could be me again, then I could have all of those things. Nobody in Glavisdale can, or will help you to become you again. That reflection gave Jordan an idea.

Nobody in Glavisdale… Surely someone in the world can help me… I just need to find them! Jordan almost broke into a run for the door. It was so simple, it was-

...Probably impossible. Jordan collapsed on himself, as reality set in.

But then again… I'm not going to accomplish anything by watching mother sleep every night, wishing I could talk to her.

Jordan turned back and looked at his mother.

Should I? Will you be okay until I return? She was still clearly depressed over the loss of her children, but she was far healthier than she'd been in years. She had her job and her friends to distract her from her pain. And Jordan wasn't doing her any favors by remaining Glavisdale's number one terrorist pokemon.

Alright, It's decided then. I'll go get help, and I'll return to you as your son. But first I have to say my goodbyes. Jordan left his mother's bedroom, climbed out of the second story window he'd used to get in, and made a beeline for Kato's dojo.

Jordan dropped lightly upon the dojo's mats. He had broken into Kato's home much the same way he had broken into his mother's home. This time a loose skylight was his choice of entry.

Old man? Jordan looked towards Kato's private chambers. Feeling slightly sacrilegious, Jordan pushed open the door to Kato's room. The old man was within, nestled on a cot. Jordan approached with extreme caution. Kato's sleeping habits were unknown to Jordan, and given the old man's skill, the last thing Jordan wanted was to risk a violent confrontation with his master by waking him. Jordan reached the bed without rousing his master, and knelt beside him as he had done with his mother.

Master. I… Jordan looked at the silent and still form of Kato. Was the old man sleeping, or had he died in the night? Jordan fought the urge to feel for Kato's breath. One stray feather and… Kato released a loud snore, causing Jordan to jump. From the movement of Jordan's facial muscles, Jordan could only speculate that he was giving Kato a beaky, sheepish smile.

You old fart! You damn near gave me a heart attack! Kato's snores became regular now, drowning out any sound Jordan may have caused by his startled reaction. Jordan watched as the old man continue to sleep loudly, suppressing the urge to giggle. Kato snored? The things Jordan would never have guessed. Finally, Jordan gained control of himself, mostly do to the awareness that every time Jordan attempted to express himself in a human fashion, his body would somehow butcher the effort. Jordan knelt alongside the old man once more.

Master, you… words had never been easy for Jordan, and now that he could no longer speak, words had never been more important to him either.

Kato, you've been like a father to me. You taught me more than how to be just a warrior. You taught me the value of patience, you showed me how to channel my emotions into productive ways. You inspired me to look out for others… Remembering how he had failed Chrissie, Jordan regretted his phrasing on that last bit.

You taught me what was important, and if only I had listened sooner, none of this would have happened. I just wanted to let you know that I appreciated all that you've done for me. I'll likely have to put every lesson you taught me to the test on my journey, and I wouldn't even be attempting such a journey if it wasn't for the confidence you inspired within me. I owe you a lot old man, and I want to start paying you back now. I promise you that I will not fail. I promise that I will not bring you further grief. And I promise that once this is all over, I will return to your dojo and be your pupil once more. Kato snored, choked and began hacking, but did not wake. Jordan, now thoroughly spooked, decided to finish saying his goodbye, before Kato actually did snore himself awake.

I will not fail. You have given me all that I need to succeed. Thank you master.

Jordan bowed to his sleeping master, and left Kato's room. Looking around the empty practice room in the dark, Jordan realized how much he had missed this place. Nostalgic eyes ran along the pristine walls, where other masters would have hung their trophies and plaques of achievements, Kato had kept his dojo decidedly modest. However, something caught Jordan's eye. At the end of the poles that Kato provided his students with to hang their obi's and belongings, practically right next to the door Jordan had just left, was a pile of garbage.

How did this get here? Jordan wondered. If any student left their belongings on the poles after the dojo closed it's doors, Kato would take the perpetrator's possessions and place them atop a greased pole fixed to the ground. If the student wanted his belongings back, they would have to climb the pole to retrieve them. Kato was nothing if not old fashioned in his discipline.

Yet clearly, some student had left a mess of their possessions, and Kato had neglected to enact his normal punishment. Filled with curiosity, Jordan headed over to investigate. What he found caught him completely off guard.

It was shrine. A picture hung beneath a strip of cloth, an obi from what Jordan could see in the dark. A wreath had been placed beneath the picture, and several candles and a bowl had been arranged on the floor. The candles had been there for quite some time, and had been regularly lit, judging from the accumulation of dusty wax on the floor. Jordan's heart pounded furiously, for it knew what his mind had yet to realize. Jordan leaned in closer to inspect the picture, to see whom the shrine had been dedicated to. Jordan's heart leapt into his throat, and his nostrils grew warm and watery. It was a picture of him. A picture of Jordan holding up his first obi from so many years ago. The lump in Jordan's throat threatened to gag him. The obi above the picture was his. It was the same obi Jordan had left on that same pole over a week ago, when Jordan ran from his master in despair.

Master… Jordan turned to look at the old man's door, where Kato continued to snore.

Master, I… Jordan felt hurt, yet profoundly touched that his master had set up a shrine to his seemingly deceased pupil.

Master! I will not fail! Jordan is not dead! I will bring him back to you and to mother!

Jordan took his obi from the shrine, and made for the skylight. He had but one more goodbye left to say.

Chrissie. Jordan knelt in front of his sister's place.

Little sister…

"Why are you leaving, Jordi?"

I have to. I have to find someone who can help me be me again.

"You are you, Jordi. You don't need to leave."

Chrissie, look at me. Look at what I am now. I'm not your brother anymore.

"What are you talking about, Jordi? Of course you're my brother! Feathers and a beak don't change that!"

Chrissie… I'm not right. It's not just the feathers. Something… something is broken in me, and I…

Jordan stopped. What was he saying? Something is broken in me? How could he make this about him?! Jordan clutched himself angrily. If something was broken in him, It was broken because Jordan had let Chrissie die! He deserved that pain!

"Jordi, stop… please…"

No Chrissie. No. This is my punishment. I need to suffer. I need to pay. I won't stop. If I stop Chrissie… I might… I might lose… I would lose you all over again! Jordan smashed his forehead against the asphalt, welcoming the pain as it coursed through his head.

I can't lose you again Chrissie. I can't let you go. If I do, then you… you… you really will die…

"Jordi…"

I love you Chrissie. And I will never, never leave you again!

I love you Chrissie!

"Jordi… I just want… Jordi, please take care of yourself. Feathers or no feathers, I just want my brother back!"

I'll bring Jordan back to you too, Chrissie.

"Goodbye, Jordi…"

Goodbye Chrissie. I will always remember you. Jordan tied his obi into a figure eight, and placed it on the asphalt. His eyes were stinging, but no tears would come.

I have to come back. Even if I fail… Jordan felt queasy. He had refused to acknowledge defeat up until this point, but if it were inevitable, If he was damned to be a pokemon for the rest of his life, he would come back to Glavisdale. If not for his mother or Kato, he would come back for Chrissie.

I'll come back to you Chrissie. Feathers or no feathers. Jordan turned to face the rising sun.

I should get going now. Jordan headed off towards town. He wanted to see his mother again, just one last time.

Jordan entered his mother's house through the second story window. It was still early morning, and the sun had yet to fill the house with light.

Mother is still probably asleep, Jordan thought.

I just want to say goodbye this time.

Jordan slowly opened his mother's bedroom door. She wasn't in her bed. Feeling a slight stab of worry, Jordan listened at the bathroom door. He didn't want to be discovered. The notorious bird pokemon in her house? She would have an absolute fit. From the silence of the bathroom Jordan could confirm with some certainty that she was not within. Ever so carefully Jordan went downstairs to the kitchen. The place was spotless. There was no indication of his mother having taken any meals at all.

This is strange… She doesn't have to be at work for a couple of hours, all the stores are closed, she's not in the house. Maybe an early morning walk? Jordan turned to back towards the stairs and froze. The basement door was wide open.

Jordan's body tingled unpleasantly. The inky basement gaped at him. No light shone from below.

Move. Jordan commanded his frozen body.

Come on, move. He couldn't. An almost unreal dread poured out of the basement door, like some diseased creature's dying breathe. The darkness was almost impenetrable.

Dammit, MOVE! Jordan forced his noncompliant body forwards a step. Then he took another. And another. The basement door loomed before him. The tingling in Jordan's body was like cold electricity, numbing and aggravating. Every fiber of his being begged him to stop. Exerting a martyr's will, Jordan pressed himself. He passed beneath the door frame, and paused at the first step.

Something's wrong. Jordan knew now that his body was trying to tell him something, something he refused to hear. Looking down into darkness, Jordan ground his beak, and took the first step into the basement.

Jordan was swallowed by the darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He fought the single most powerful urge to run away that Jordan had ever felt in his life. Jordan felt as if he were descending into madness. Run away! His body screamed. Don't look, oh God please don't look! Jordan struggled to pull himself together. His knees were knocking, and his arms were shaking. His breath came in short wheezes and coos.

This is stupid! Jordan told himself.

I'm not afraid of the dark!

It's not the dark you need fear, rather what the dark conceals from you. Run away! Let the blessed dark keep this secret! Turn your eyes away and run! Jordan snapped his head in frustration.

I am not running away. I will not run away. Jordan took another step forward.

I will not run away. He took another step.

I will not run away. One more step.

I will not run away. I will not run away. I will not…

Oh God…

Jordan saw it now. Silhouetted against the darkness. She swayed gently from side to side.

No… Oh God no…

She swayed from one side, and then to the other side.

No… Please… NO!

Side to side.

"MOTHER!"

He had no voice. It wouldn't have made a difference if he did. Jordan released an unearthly shriek that warbled and thrummed with an unholy power. Falling to his knees, drool oozing from the corner of his beak, Jordan stared at the spectre before him with equal parts disbelief and horror. Jordan crumpled onto the floor, his body nothing more than a sack of meat and bone. Jordan fled the confines of his body. He blindly ran into the darkness within himself and sought to drown his existence in the waters of oblivion. Jordan faded from the world, and passed out on the basement floor.

Chapter 9: The Perfect Hell

Why? Jordan stared up from his pool of drool. All he could see was her feet.

Why… Oh God, why now? Why? Why mother…

He couldn't move. He couldn't look away.

Why mother? Why would you… How could you…

Jordan couldn't do anything. He could just lay there, staring and begging.

HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME, MOTHER!?

Jordan pulled himself up. His body was weightless. Jordan reached for her, his arms convulsing, mouth agape, dead eyes staring into dead space. Jordan's eyes flickered when he saw his talons. Grabbing those monstrous claws and pulling them against his chest, Jordan fell to his knees and vomited. He vomited again. Jordan choked, and began to dry heave as his body rejected the reality he found himself in. Everything was going so well. She was sane again. Jordan had made some level of peace with himself.

I was going to come back to you, mother… I was going to bring back your son…

It was too much for Jordan to bear. He couldn't do it anymore. He didn't even know what he thought he was going to accomplish. He didn't even know what he was going to do a few minutes ago.

Run. Just run. And when you stop running, run some more.

Jordan cast one final look at his mother.

Just run. And Don't. Stop. Running.

Jordan ran. Jordan ran away from his mother. Ran away from his childhood home. Ran away from the town that he had been raised in. Ran through the woods that he had played in as a child. Ran into lands unknown to him. And ran further still. After all, running away from his life was all that Jordan knew.

Chapter 10: An Unusual Birthday Guest

May woke well before the sun had risen. An incredible feeling of excitement overtook her the instant she opened her eyes. Today was the day. Today was the day she had been waiting for since she could first talk. Today was the day she got her Trainer's License. Today was the day she would leave her home town of Littleroot. Today was the day May got her first pokemon. Today was the first day of the rest of her life.

May knew the significance of her birthday, but she had no idea how her journey as a Pokemon Trainer would be uniquely different than that of any other trainer's.

"I can't wait!" May whispered into her bed sheets. She didn't wish to wake her family, but May could not go back to sleep. May fidgeted with her fingers, the urge to just do something was overpowering. Looking out her bedroom window, May watched the pale blue of dawn transform into a soft pink.

"I have to do something! All this waiting is driving me crazy!" May tossed off her bed sheets, dressed herself quickly, quietly dashed out of her bedroom, and made for the great outdoors.

...

Jordan sat alone on the upper branches of the tallest tree he could find. His throat was dry, his eyes gummy, and his body weak. He hadn't slept for days. His mind slurred his thoughts, preventing any intelligent internal dialogue. He was so exhausted, he couldn't even feel miserable. The sun was beginning to rise. Jordan watched as the rays of light poured over the surrounding tree tops. As the light reached him, and it's warmth filled him, Jordan's eyes began to close. No sooner had they shut, then Jordan had fallen asleep.

His world was coated in blackness. The air was dry and cold. Jordan stumbled across this terrible land, while memories tormented him from the shadows. Jordan watched as Kato approached him, arms folded across his chest.

"You're a fool, boy. Did you really think that anyone could help you? Why would anyone want to help a man who killed his own family?"

'Master!' Jordan reached for Kato.

'Master I beg of you!'

"You can't even speak. Your soul and body are unfit to be my student. Do you know the shame you brought me when you betrayed your family?"

'Master!' Jordan's talons tore desperately through the smoke, trying to reach his master. Kato turned his back and faded away into the shadows.

'Why?' Jordan cried.

'It wasn't me! I would never harm mother...'

"Jordan."

Jordan turned, his heart full of dread. His mother beckoned to him from her bed.

"Why did you leave me Jordan?"

'Mother, I-'

"Quiet. You have no voice." Jordan's mother reminded him. Jordan gaped desperately, trying to speak, but only horrible whistles and warbles could be produced.

"What a waste. Can you believe that I birthed a failure such as you? If I knew what you would do to my family, I would have smothered you as a baby." Jordan fell to his knees.

'Stop… Oh God, please… let it end… I just want to die… I just want it to end...'

"You took away everything that I loved, and when I had nothing, you poisoned me for five long years with your lies. I almost forgave you. I couldn't overcome the love a mother has for her child."

'Mother please… kill me. I can't go on like this… please kill me and let it all end...'

"And when I finally freed myself from your toxic lies, just when I hoped we could try to be a family again, you left me!" Her bedsheets flew from her body as a noose dragged her above Jordan.

"Look at what your cowardice and lies have done to me!"

'Mother!' Jordan writhed upon the ground beneath her, unable to look at the memory of his sins.

'Stop it… just let me die...'

"Jordi."

'No...'

"Jorrrdiii?"

'Chrissie, please… I never meant to… If I had just...'

"Why don't you answer me big brother?"

Jordan looked up. There, across from his hanging mother, in the shadows that Kato had disappeared within, was Jordan's sister. She was on her knees, face buried in her tiny hands. Chrissie's body heaved as if she were sobbing. Her black and white floral dress whipped around her in the wind.

'Chrissie...'

"That's right. You don't have a voice. It's okay. I didn't want to hear your pathetic lies anyways."

'Chrissie, not you… please Chrissie don't say that! I would never lie to you!'

"Jordan, do you know what I hate most about you?"

Jordan stared at his little sister. He knew the answer. Chrissie's memory stopped crying. She lifted her head from her hands. Half of her face was torn meat and scratched bone. Blood trickled down her dress, staining her white flowers red. The shadows burst into flames around them, the cold wind replaced by a searing tempest. Chrissie rose and glided the distance between herself and Jordan. Mere inches away from his face, she stared Jordan in his grief stricken eyes.

"YOU NEVER HELD ME BEFORE THEY BURNED MY BODY INTO ASHES." The fire was reflected in Chrissie's one eye. A river of bloody tears flowed from that one dead eye.

"YOU NEVER EVEN TOLD ME GOODBYE."

Jordan grabbed his sister's corpse, and held her close. The flames engulfed them both. Through the pain of it all, Jordan still managed to speak his dearest truth.

'I love you, Chrissie...'

Jordan snapped awake. The sun had fully risen, but the heat that Jordan felt could not have been caused by the sun. A crackling sound alerted Jordan to the condition of his extremities. He looked to his arms and legs. They were on fire! Jordan banged his arms together, desperately trying to put the fire out. In his panic Jordan fell from his roost. He fell from the tree, body ablaze, letting out one terrified squawk just before he hit the ground.

Jordan snapped awake. He looked to his wrists and saw the flames billowing across his forearms. Exerting what little willpower he had left, Jordan willed the flames away. Looking at the midday sun from his high perch in the trees, Jordan wondered if he was truly awake, or if this was just another nightmare trying to lure him into a false sense of security. He couldn't tell what was real and what was just another terrible dream. He didn't know what day it was. He couldn't remember if he had eaten at all in the last few days.

I'm going insane. Jordan thought with quite some certainty. He wondered if he had slept for a couple of hours, or a couple of days. He could no longer stand sleeping. It always brought those horrible dreams. Jordan looked again at his talons.

I'm going to die at this rate. Jordan thought.

I just can't take it anymore.

A scream pierced Jordan's depression.

Was that real?

"Help!"

Jordan stood up, his misery forgotten. Someone was in trouble.

"HELP!"

Jordan located the source of the scream, born from a clearing not far from his perch. A pack of Taillows darted about a prone figure in the grass. A massive blue shadow swept down towards it. Jordan leapt from the tree, a new purpose guiding him to the sound of distress.

...

May huddled in a ball. She clutched the bleeding gash on her side. The wound wasn't deep, but it stung fiercely. The thing that had attacked her was circling back. Taillows grabbed at May's hair with their talons, pecking at her arms and legs. May had never been so scared in her life. A warm sensation ran down May's legs. She had just wet herself. The blue shadow struck again, raking its claws across her body, opening new wounds. May had just gone out for a walk, into a valley she had come to since she was a little girl. They had attacked without warning or provocation. They had just attacked her, and when May ran, they had chased her. This wasn't a group of pokemon defending their nests; this was a swarm of angry pokemon trying to kill her.

"I'm going to die…" May said weakly. She was too far from town for anyone to hear her cries for help, and she hadn't told a soul where she was going. Now on her birthday, on the day she had been looking forward to for so very long, she was going to die. The swarm of Taillows tore into her, and the shadow fell across her again.

"HELP!"

The ground shook, and the Taillows' cries of anger became that of panic. A screech drove her hands over her ears, and sudden gust billowed her.

What's happening? May thought, her mind blurred with fear. May hesitated, and tentatively looked up. A red and yellow feathered leg filled her vision, and a great blue Swellow flapped it's wings beyond it.

...

Jordan saw the girl getting attacked. The Swellow was circling around, going for the third and final strike.

I have to get there NOW! Jordan thought putting all of his strength into a dashing leap. The ground below sailed by, and the clearing came rushing up at him. For moment, Jordan feared the impact would kill him, but his fears were unfounded. His body knew his limitations, even if Jordan had yet to explore them. Jordan smashed into the ground between the girl and the Swellow, his landing was close and sudden enough to startle the attacking Taillow into retreating. Jordan spread his arms and crouched, sighting the approaching Swellow with the intent of stopping it at all costs.

The Swellow, clearly taken aback by this sudden and unexpected interruption, let out an ear piercing shriek. The Swellow broke off it's attack, furiously flaring its wings to slow his descent. Jordan stared at the majestic blue bird pokemon as it hovered in front of him. A scar ran the length of it's body, from one blind eye all the way down to a knobby talon. With the Swellow's attack stalled, Jordan looked over his shoulder at the girl. She was hurt and frightened, but alive. She uncurled from her ball and looked him in the eyes. Confusion and relief filled her eyes with tears.

Don't get hopeful yet. Jordan aimed his thoughts at her, knowing she wouldn't hear them.

We're still in the thick of it.

YOU! Jordan startled, he turned towards the Swellow in disbelief. It was talking to him!

Who do you think you are, defending that monster from us?! The Swellow's anger poured over Jordan.

What has she done? Why are you hurting her!? Jordan tried speaking to the Swellow. It appeared to understand him.

Her kind destroyed our homes, burned our nests and crushed our eggs! Who are you to deny us justice? The Swellow roared at Jordan.

Her kind? You mean she hasn't done anything to you? You're trying to kill her! Jordan roared back.

They killed our families! They destroyed the peaceful homes we were raised in! We did nothing to them! They came of their own volition, unprovoked, without warning! They killed my mate and let their traitorous hounds lick out the yolks of my unborn young! All humans are monsters! All humans deserve to die! The Swellow hollered at Jordan, it's hatred was overwhelming.

That's no excuse to take the life of an innocent girl! I have lost as you have and I couldn't... Jordan couldn't continue. He clutched his chest. The pain was too much. Why was he telling the Swellow this? Why would the Swellow even care? It wasn't even human. Jordan looked up at the Swellow and saw with some amazement that it's rage had been tempered somewhat by... pity?

You understand the pain of losing your family as well? In that case, I beg of you; stand aside. Let me avenge the ghosts of my loved ones. Let me take what was taken from me. Let me show the humans the same bitterness that they showed me. The Swellow's gaze hardened. It was Jordan's last warning. Jordan looked the Swellow in the eye, a familiar calm found it's way into his body, backed by an unbreakable conviction.

I'm sorry. I won't let you harm this girl again. Please, just leave. I don't want to hurt you. You've lost enough as it is. Even though Jordan was prepared to fight, he had no wish to harm this Swellow. His heart ached for it and for it's loss, but he could not condone its actions. Despite it's pain, the Swellow was wrong.

You would defend the humans? Then you leave me no choice. My brethren! To me! Let us bring death to the humans and those who serve them! Avenge your families this day! The Swellow took to the sky again, the Taillow in close pursuit. The swarm put distance and height between themselves and Jordan and his ward. Assuming a V-pattern dive, the swarm took aim as one, the Swellow at it's lead.

Jordan's world blurred. His opponent was of many parts. But as with every mortal body, there was a weak spot. The Swellow was the head. Jordan watched as the flying V picked up speed, he watched as the Taillows furthest back on the arms of the V surged forward, their drafts catching their fellows and projecting forward them with greater speed. As one pair passed, the next surged after them, transferring an even greater speed to the next pair, causing a chain reaction. The climax of which would be the greatest draft propelling the Swellow at the V's tip. Jordan recognised his opponent's strategy. He could see the first two Taillows cross trajectories and aim for him.

I need to take the hits from all of the Taillows, and save the counterstrike for the head. Jordan watched the Taillows behind the first set follow suit. Tucking their wings in to maximize their speed, they spread their talon forward, ready to tear into Jordan and the girl he protected.

Recognizing his greatest weakness was the girl, Jordan crouched protectively around her, crossing his forearms over his face. The first set of Taillows struck. Shallow scratches and ruffled feathers were the most damage they could manage. The second set hit, followed almost instantly by the third. They pounded Jordan, one pair after the other, in quick succession, every set hitting harder than the last. They were trying to unbalance him, attempting to break his guard. Jordan stood like a rock beneath their onslaught. Only two sets to go before the finale. The Swellow looked at his targets and met the eyes of his opponent. The pain that had been in his opponent's eyes was now gone. A resolve emanated from those eyes, challenging the Swellow's thirst for justice, challenging the Swellow's purpose with his own.

I will stop you. Those eyes told him.

You are wrong. Vengeance will not bring you peace. It will only make you into the monster that you detest.

You don't understand. Swellow answered those eyes with his own.

I don't care what happens to me. I don't care what happens to you. I only want to see my family again. I have nothing to hold me back.

I understand. said Jordan.

More than you know. That is why I must stop you. I don't want you to become the monster that I am.

The Swellow launched after his brethren, their combined draft catapulting him towards his targets. He tucked his wings into his sides, but did not extend his talons. He wanted maximum speed for his last strike.

I will happily die if it means avenging my family. The Swellow told Jordan.

Do you understand that?

The final set of Taillows struck Jordan, and he looked now to his final opponent. The Swellow had entered the dive as the Taillow had before it, but something was different.

That speed. He's going to kill himself. Jordan realized. He had to act fast. There was no way he could get himself and the girl out of harm's way in time. He had but one option. It was risky one, but the it was the only one available. He had to intercept the Swellow with an equal force. And the only force available to Jordan with that kind of power was his body. Without hesitating Jordan leapt into the air, launching himself straight for the Swellow. Crossing his forearms in front of him once more, Jordan hoped they would protect his body and head from the force of the impact. The distance was closing. Flames erupted from Jordan's wrists and ankles, bathing his body in a fireball. He collided with Swellow at full force and still ablaze. The Swellow crashed into the ground, and Jordan was thrown into the dirt as well. The flames died down. The pain in Jordan's forearms was incredible. Fortunately, the rest of him was mostly unharmed. Jordan rose unsteadily to his feet, marveling that despite the pain, his arms seemed free of the bone deep agony associated with fractures.

Jordan walked to where the Swellow had fallen. The Swellow's good eye rolled into it's head, and the feathers around its neck were stained with blood. The Swellow lifted a broken wing, and feebly dropped it. The Swellow began to seizure as it's muscles thrashed their last motions. He was dead.

I'm sorry. Jordan only felt cold inside. The Swellow had wanted to die. It had wanted to die with it's enemies wasted before it. Jordan took some cold comfort knowing that by denying it's dying wish, he had saved it's innocence. Jordan turned to girl he had saved. She was not far off, staring at Jordan with tears still pouring from her eyes.

You're alright then. Good. Glad I was able to do something right- Jordan's thoughts were interrupted. The girl had ran over to Jordan, and had grabbed him around his waist, burying her face into his chest while she sobbed hysterically. Jordan was taken aback. She was touching him. Couldn't she see that he was a monster? After a stunned moment, Jordan lowered himself to his knees. Jordan took the girl into arms, and gently stroked her hair with his talons.

Shhh… It's okay now. You're safe. Shhhh…

The girl's sobs eased, and she began to choke. Jordan absentmindedly rubbed her back, feeling more like a brother than he had in years.

It's okay. I've got you. You're safe now.

She pulled her face from his coat of feathers, and placed her head against Jordan's chest, moving her arms up his back as she did so. Her breathing was shaky, but her sobs had given way to mere snuffles and gasps. Overcome with a profound feeling of affection, Jordan held her close, resting his beak upon her shoulder.

You're alright. Take a deep breath. You're okay.

"Thank you." The girl said in a sorrowful, exhausted voice.

Don't mention it. Jordan thought, feeling far better than he had in what seemed like an eternity.

Jordan walked along the road towards the town of Littleroot. The girl he'd saved walked beside him. Her tears had dried, though she kept a respective silence as she stayed close. Jordan looked at her, scrutinizing every detail. Her unkempt brown hair had tufts torn out of it from the attack, and her dirty face had several scratches, though none were deep and few had bled. The gash along her thigh was what concerned him most. The wound itself was far from fatal, but had the Swellow struck but an inch deeper, Jordan would have had to have dug two graves.

Jordan examined the wounds of his ward, well aware of the horde of Taillow watching them from the trees. The Taillow made no move against them. With the Swellow dead, they had lost the will to fight.

'Chrissie would be about her age, if Chrissie were still alive.' Jordan thought, pulling dead leaves from her hair. He had bandaged the gash on her thigh to the best of his ability, wrapping the girl's torn jacket around the wound. None of her other scrapes or cuts required immediate attention, though Jordan wanted to wash them before they risked infection. She was still crying, but had released Jordan from her death grip long enough for him to administer to her injuries. Looking her in her frightened eyes, he tried to convey some level of reassurance with his own. The girl relaxed slightly, and Jordan turned back to the fallen Swellow.

'I may have been the one to kill you, but I do not resent you or your loss. I may not honor your ideals, but I will not deny your sorrows, nor refuse your spirit rest.' Jordan began to dig a hole, scratching at the dirt with his talons. The girl and the Taillows watched him labor, both clearly confused to his intent. After Jordan had dug a pit he deemed sufficiently deep, He rose and walked once more to the fallen Swellow. Staring at the bird's corpse, Jordan was strongly reminded of day that he had found the remains of Chrissie. The Swellow's mouth lay open, it's eye stared into nothingness. It's rigid corpse was frozen in an animation of terror. There was no beauty in death. Those who said otherwise were deluded romantics.

Doing what he should have done for Chrissie all those years ago, Jordan knelt before Swellow's corpse and gently scooped it up in his arms. Carrying his fallen foe to the pit he had dug, Jordan knelt once more, and interred the Swellow's worldly remains into the ground. Scooping dirt onto his dead rival, Jordan heard the Taillow murmur about themselves. They didn't understand what Jordan was doing, but the gravity of his actions had struck them deep.

Piling stones into a cairn, Jordan looked to the girl. She was watching him with sorrow and admiration. She of course, understood what he was doing. Placing the last stone upon the mound, Jordan stood back. No words were spoken, no utterances of rites. Jordan gave the Swellow his silence, honoring the bird's memory.

The girl stepped forward, and placed a single lily upon the cairn.

"I know you didn't want to kill it, and I wish you didn't have to. But thank you. I'm alive because of you." She said softly. The girl knelt before the grave, and held her hands in some silent prayer. A Taillow gave a mournful cry, and took to the skies. It's fellows dispersed after it, each circled overhead, before flying off into the horizon.

The girl rose from her silent benediction. Jordan moved forward and placed his weary talon upon her shoulder. She turned and looked at him, fresh tears of loss upon her cheeks. Gently brushing those tears away with the feathers of his wrist, Jordan looked her in the eyes.

'Come on.' Jordan thought.

'Let's get you home.'

The wall of Littleroot was coming into view. Jordan knew that he would be saying goodbye soon. Upon seeing her hometown in the distance, the girl began to pick up pace. When they came before the town gate, Jordan stopped. The girl kept going, until she realized that Jordan was no longer walking with her. She looked back at him curiously.

Go on. Jordan said, waving a talon in a limp gesture. Jordan's eyes found his feet.

There's nothing for me in your home. Jordan turned, and made for the woods, leaving the border where her innocent world began and his dark world collided. A hand grabbed his talon. Jordan stopped and looked back at the girl. She met Jordan's saddened eyes, and spoke those words that haunted him so.

"Please… don't go."

Chrissie…

...

May led the reluctant pokemon towards her home. He seemed a bit on edge. Her thigh stung, and insides of her legs itched where the urine had dried. Never the less, May strode confidently towards her home, keen to show her savior there was nothing to fear here.

"May!" Her mother's voice shouted. She was standing on the porch of the house.

"Mom!" May ran towards her mother.

"Where have you been, young lady? Your father and I… May? What happened?!" May ran into her mother's arms, sobbing.

"May, you're hurt! What happened?" May's mother turned towards the pokemon that May had left on the walk.

"What the hell did you do to my daughter?!" She said, pushing May protectively behind her.

"Mom, no!" May said, seeing the pokemon wither.

"May, get in the house! Just wait until your father gets home, he'll deal with this monster!"

Wincing, the pokemon began to turn away. May, fearing that her savior was leaving because of her mother's misunderstanding, broke free of her mother's grasp and ran to the pokemon.

"May!" Her mother shouted in concern. Grabbing the pokemon's talon, May turned her tear streaked face back to her mother.

"He saved me, mom! He saved me and now he's hurt! Don't talk to him like that!" May gritted her teeth, wishing that she could stem her tears.

"May…" Her mother's voice sounded faint and hurt.

The pokemon looked down at May, it's eyes were wide and watery. May looked into those grieving and confused eyes, wondering what she had done to cause such a reaction. The pokemon blinked, and the look disappeared. It's eyes softened and it looked at her with weary adoration and thanks.

"I'm sorry." May's mother walked done and placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"I didn't know. You were gone so long and we didn't know where you went… we thought you might have..." She looked from her daughter to the pokemon.

"You saved my daughter?" May's mother asked. The pokemon hesitantly nodded.

"I'm sorry." She said tears forming in her eyes.

"You're more than welcome to stay with us for a little while. After all, you saved my little girl."

The pokemon's sad eyes softened, wordless thanks reached out to her. Taken aback by such a human expression, May's mother paused, before looking back at her daughter.

"Go up stairs. Get cleaned up. I'll be up in a moment and we will talk about your behavior, young lady."

"And you-" She turned to the pokemon, her voice softening.

"Wait out back. When I'm finished with May, I'll take care of you." The pokemon obeyed, and May cast it one last glance before her mother led her into the house.

...

Grace filled the basin with hot water. A collection of antiseptics and bandages were placed off to the side. Turning back to the pokemon, she instructed him to get inside the basin. It obeyed. Grabbing a brush and bar of soap, grace began to wash her feathered guest.

"May told me what happened." Grace said to no one in particular.

"I thought she was exaggerating when she said you saved her, but it seems you really did save her life." Grace washed the skin beneath the oily feathers, cleaning the abrasions and gouges where the Taillow had struck the pokemon.

"I don't know why you saved her, but thank you." The pokemon looked her in the eyes. Grace repressed a shudder. It was as if it understood everything she said.

"Do you belong to a trainer?" The pokemon slowly shook it's head.

"You can understand everything I'm saying, can't you?" It nodded. Grace looked at it with growing curiosity. She had been around pokemon all of her life, and none of them had ever come close to the human expressions this pokemon was capable of.

Grace moved from it's back and shoulders, and cleaned her way down it's arm. So far she had yet to encounter any grievous injuries, though it seemed every inch of the pokemon was covered with scrapes and bruises.

"There's an interesting story to you, isn't there?" Grace said, washing the scrapes of it's elbows. So far so good.

"I'm just glad that- Dear God." Grace lifted away the feather's of the pokemon's forearms. Deep lacerations and massive swelling bruises covered both arms. Gingerly pressing the various bruises, Grace checked for broken bones.

"You're a tough old bird, aren't you?" The pokemon hardly winced throughout her probing. Nothing felt broken, but those wounds were painful just to look at. Diving into the medical pile, Grace rubbed antiseptics and soothing ointments across the injured areas, then wrapped them in clean gauze and bandages.

"So that was where the Swellow got you. It must've been one hell of a fight." Grace said, tying the last of the bandages.

"May is in the shower. I addressed the wound on her thigh. It looked serious, though it really wasn't as bad as it could've been." The pokemon looked up at the mention of May, the concern in it's eyes startled Grace.

"Easy, easy, she's okay." Good God this thing was human! It touched Grace deeply to see the compassion this pokemon exuded for her daughter.

"She wanted to skip the bath and help clean you, but I told her to get decent for her birthday first. She really wants to see you." The pokemon relaxed, but it looked somewhat awkward when Grace mentioned the last part. The sadness entered the pokemon's eyes again, and it stared at it's talons with weary indifference.

"What happened to you?" whispered Grace, a lump forming in her throat. This pokemon was unlike anything she had experienced before. The pokemon didn't respond.

"I have a few things left to take care of for May's party." Grace said, forcing her voice past the lump.

"I would like it if you would stay for May's birthday dinner. Let me know if you need anything." The pokemon turned to Grace slowly.

"Grace! Has May come home yet?" May's father, Norman, strode into the yard. He froze when he saw the large pokemon in the basin.

"What's with the Blaziken, Grace?"

The pokemon started at the sound of it's name. Looking at Normal quizzically, it rose from the basin.

"Norman, have you seen your daughter?" Grace's voice carried a hint of reproach.

"May came home then? Good lord, I've been looking for her everywhere. Is she alright?"

"She's fine Norman, and alive thanks to this…" Grace's voice returned to a more level tone.

"Blaziken." Norman finished for her.

"Wait, what do you mean alive?" Norman asked sternly, catching on to his wife's subtle hint.

"Talk to your daughter, Norman. After what she pulled today and the possible consequences, I'm not sure if I can support this whole Trainer thing."

Norman's stern expression darkened.

"What happened, Grace?"

"Ask May what happened. And be glad for this Blaziken that you still can."

Norman turned towards the house, and hurried towards the door. May however, got their first.

"Daddy!" May ran into her father's arms. She was all smiles.

"May?" Norman started, but was instantly strangled by a hug from his daughter. Norman returned her enthusiastic embrace, but gently pried her arms from his neck. Seeing the bandages on his daughter's leg, Norman immediately dropped his stoic countenance.

"May, what the hell happened? You were gone from your bed this morning, you didn't tell me or your mother where you went, didn't write a note, and you have been missing for half of the day. Do you know how worried your mother and I were? What were you doing?"

"Daddy, I-"

"Perhaps we should continue this discussion inside. I wouldn't want to make our guest feel awkward." Grace suggested.

"How is he? Is he alright? I-"

"He's hurt, May. And if you hadn't done what you did, he wouldn't have gotten hurt." Grace cut her daughter's questions short. To both Norman's and Grace's surprise, May's face fell. She didn't say a word. It was an unusual display of responsibility and maturity from their daughter.

"May," Norman tried again, his voice gentle.

"Tell me what happened."

May told him the story. About how she went out for early walk to her old playground in the woods. About how something knocked her to the ground. How she'd gotten up confused and hurt, and tried running for the woods. How May had called for help. How the Taillow had begun herding her into the open, where the Swellow could strike her with impunity. How May thought she was going to die. May once again succumbed to hysterical tears, reliving the moment in all it's terror.

Grace turned to the Blaziken, who was watching May with pity in his eyes. Grace felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise. It was unbelievably human, almost uncomfortably so.

"And when-and when-" May hiccuped, swallowed, and forced herself to continue.

"And when I gave up, and just waited to die..." May's voice cracked. Blaziken walked towards May, her pain reflected in his eyes. He stopped, however and fell back to stand by Grace.

Grace looked at him warmly, tears coming to her own eyes. Blaziken genuinely cared about May, even after sustaining such injuries on her behalf. Norman didn't notice any of this. His red eyes stared intently on his daughter, swallowing his own tears and waiting for May to continue.

"He came down and saved me…" May said, pointing at Blaziken.

"He fought off the Taillow, and faced the Swellow all by himself. He got hurt. But he stood over me and protected me from the attacks. He didn't leave me, even when the Swellow aimed right at me. When the Swellow came down for last strike, that pokemon-"

"Blaziken." Norman said softly. May looked at her father, confused.

"That pokemon's name is Blaziken." Norman explained

May took a steadying breath.

"When Swellow came down for it's final attack… daddy, you should've seen how fast it was moving…" May shuddered, and took another deep breath.

"Blaziken threw himself between me and the Swellow. They both crashed into ground. Blaziken got back up. But the Swellow-"

May's face tightened as jumble of conflicting emotions rose within her.

"The Swellow didn't get back up. After he made sure I was okay, Blaziken dug the Swellow a grave. Then he took me home. Daddy, Blaziken almost left at the gate. Please don't make him leave." May pleaded with her father, whom far from wanting Blaziken gone, was beginning to want Blaziken to stay.

After a pause, Norman spoke.

"May… you realize what you did today was irresponsible and selfish. You made your mother and I worry, you got a good hearted pokemon hurt, and you almost died."

Norman looked at Grace, and took a deep breath.

"Your mother seems to think that because of your irresponsible actions, you shouldn't be allowed to carry a Trainer's licence until you mature some more." May's eye's watered, the loss of her dream crushing her.

"However," Norman started, Grace made a noise in the background.

"I think that what happened today was a bad choice made worse by circumstances beyond our control." Norman's voice grew louder now, including Grace in his reasoning.

"Besides, I believe that today's trauma would serve as a stronger lesson fresh, than if it became a memory that dampened the shame."

"Daddy…" May's face lit up with hope.

"Whatever you think is best for our daughter, Norman." Grace said with a resigned air.

"Now, why don't you go play with your new friend, while mommy and daddy go finish the preparations for your birthday." Norman smiled, though it looked strained.

"Okay." May said meekly, barely able to believe her luck.

Chapter 11: Agree to Disagree

"Norman, you know how I feel about this trainer business." Grace said as she chopped radishes for a salad.

"May's clearly not ready for it, and today's behavior proves it. If that Blaziken hadn't shown up like some God-given miracle, we wouldn't even have a daughter right now!" Grace slammed her knife on the cutting board and turned to her husband, who was busy wrestling a roast into a pressure cooker.

"Grace, I know what May did today was just another example of her immaturity, but she learned from it. You saw the way she looked when we admonished her. When has May ever accepted punishment quietly?"

"Norman, while I'm glad May finally found a sense of responsibility, it doesn't change the fact she almost got herself and that Blaziken killed! What is that going to mean when she's on her own with her pokemon, out there training? Do you really want to take that kind of a risk?"

Norman conquered the roast, and turned his full attention to his wife.

"Listen to what you just said, Grace. The fact is, May got attacked at home. Letting us know about her whereabouts wouldn't have changed that. That glade was perfectly safe up until today. And let's not forget that your God-given miracle was pokemon that wanted to protect May. A pokemon May could have access to as a trainer. Besides, she learned a valuable lesson that couldn't be learned any other way. You should be happy she still wants to pursue her dream after what happened today."

"Her dream, Norman? Or the one you've been filling her head with since she was a baby?" Grace shot back. Norman's face clouded.

"I'm proud of my daughter for her decision. And, speaking from experience, nothing matures a child more than a trainer's adventure."

"Whatever, Norman. I just can't shake this feeling that May's going to wind up hurt on her adventure."

"She will get hurt. And she'll learn from it. She'll learn so that she doesn't get hurt again."

"Norman, I hate your common sense. How can you not worry?"

"I do worry. But I won't let my worries get in the way of my child's dream."

Grace sighed. She was losing the argument, what's more she was beginning to see where Norman was coming from.

"I just don't want to lose my baby girl. Just thinking about what we would be discussing if that Blaziken hadn't shown up…" Grace shuddered.

"About that Blaziken." Norman started, attempting to steer the conversation into a more comfortable topic.

"Any idea where it came from, or why it decided to risk its life for our daughter?" Norman asked.

Grace paused, remembering just how unbelievably human the Blaziken had seemed.

"Grace?" Norman asked, curiously.

"Sorry, it's just that… No, I don't know where it came from. It doesn't belong to a trainer. As for why it protected May so valiantly… compassion, I guess." Grace paused again. That last part was a whole lot less awkward to say than she had originally imagined.

"Compassion?" asked Norman, even more curious.

Grace went back to chopping vegetables. Letting her husband ponder the questions whose answers she still sought.

"How do you know it doesn't belong to a trainer?" Norman picked the more tangible question.

"I asked him, and he shook his head." Grace put down the knife again.

"He understood everything I said, and I swear he was trying to talk to me!"

Norman raised an eyebrow.

"He understands us, tries to communicate, throws himself into a dangerous situation for the sake of a total stranger, and he digs graves for the dead. Those are not normal behaviors for a pokemon, even those raised by a trainer. What in God's name is he?" Norman wondered.

"Norman, something… something bad happened to that Blaziken. Something real bad. If you look in his eyes, you can see it. He's hurting in a way that I just can't comprehend."

Norman moved to his wife, wrapping his arms around her, and buried his face in her hair. Breathing her scent deeply, Norman had to ask.

"What do you think happened to him, Grace?"

"I don't know Norman, Maybe he had a trainer, and something happened to them. Either way, the only time he seemed somewhat happy was when May was around."

"Yeah, and May lit up like a christmas tree when I told her to go play with him. You can't tell she's completely taken with him."

"Blaziken saved her life. How could she not feel anything but gratitude and adoration for him?" Grace said, her tone hinting at something that had eluded Norman.

"What are you suggesting, Grace?" Norman asked patiently.

"Oh Norman, don't tell me you haven't figured it out. May's Trainer License?"

Norman looked at his wife, still bemused.

"She's going to need a Pokemon to go with her license." Grace sighed.

"Oh." Said Norman, catching on.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Grace. A Blaziken has a whole lot more horsepower than a novice trainer could handle." Norman said.

"Are they powerful, Norman?" Grace asked.

"Very. Hell, I had to remodel the gym after the last time one showed up."

"A Blaziken did that? I thought you won that match?"

"I did. O'le Slaking actually had to get off his rump for that fight. Then the fat bastard had to sleep for three days just to build up enough energy to go loafing around again."

"I'll tell you one thing, Norman," Grace said, returning to the topic at hand.

"That Blaziken cares about May, and it's powerful to boot. I'd sleep a whole lot better at night knowing that Blaziken was looking after our daughter rather than our daughter looking after a Zigzagoon."

"Come on Grace, you know that I'd set May up with something better than a blasted Zigzagoon." Norman said, wounded that his wife would think him so careless.

"Norman, I know you're looking forward to catching May her first pokemon, but it looks like May beat you to it."

"A Blaziken, Grace? Do you even know how rare those things are?"

"Who's this about Norman? May, or you?"

Norman sighed. Grace had a point. he looked out the window where May was braiding the Blaziken's crest, and weaving flowers in between the braids.

"He's a well tempered one, isn't he?" Norman said, staring in amazement. Last time he let May put flowers in his hair, she was still in diapers.

"Well, even though it's a tad sacrilegious, I suppose we'd be hard pressed to find a better pokemon for May." Norman said.

"So that's a yes?" Grace pressed for a straight answer.

"I don't know, Grace. I'd rather May start with something a little less… potent."

Grace groaned. They'd never agree on anything relating to pokemon and their daughter.

Chapter 12: A Decision is Made

May dug her fingers into Jordan's neck, rubbing the muscles beneath his beak.

"That feels good, doesn't it Blaziken?" May said, rubbing vigorously.

As undignified as it is, yes, that feels damn good. Jordan thought, stretching his head back and closing his eyes.

Oh, that's the spot, right there… yeah. Jordan bobbed his head in time with Mays rubs, blissfully unaware that his left leg had risen and begun pawing at the air. May started giggling.

"You're funny, Blaziken."

Blaziken… So that's what I am. Jordan opened his eyes. Truly, this information changed little, but it was better to be call a "Blaziken" instead of "monster", or "that pokemon."

May ceased her vigorous rubbing, allowing a woozy Jordan to retain some small level of his dignity. Looking at the warm, smiling May provided a strong contrast to the frightened and desperate girl he had saved earlier this day. This was May in her element, and somehow the stoic and depressed Jordan was made to feel both welcome and comfortable in it.

Jordan looked May in the eyes, trying to convey his appreciation for her. May smiled, and hugged him.

"You're pretty special Blaziken." May said, her voice soft and sincere.

"I just can't stop saying, thank you." May said, somewhat embarrassed.

"I just wish I could pay you back somehow."

May, You may not know it, but you've done so much for me already. I wish I could say 'thank you,' But-

"May!" A man called from the porch.

"Professor Birch!" May shouted back excitedly, running over to the man.

But I can't say anything… Jordan thought, watching May hurry over towards the Professor.

"Happy birthday, You little squirt!" Professor Birch took May into his arms and spun her around.

"Will! I'm glad you could make it!" Norman walked out onto deck, passing a drink to the Professor.

"Of course I could make it! I couldn't miss May's big day!" The Professor said, putting May on her feet and accepting Norman's drink.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't William Birch. Good to see you again, stranger." Grace walked out onto the deck, a drink in her hand as well.

"Grace! How are you darling? Keeping Norman out of trouble?" Professor Birch greeted her with a gentlemen's hug and kiss.

"Not as much as I should. How's Brendan doing?"

"Professor, is Brendan going to be able to make it?" May interrupted before the Professor could answer Grace.

"Aww May, I'm sorry. Brendan's land locked on route 103. The flood season has been unusually strong. He holo'ed ahead to wish you a happy birthday and apologize for not being able to make it."

"Oh." May said.

"I hope he's okay…"

"Oh, he's fine!" Said Professor Birch cheerfully.

"He's shacked up with some old folks up there, they didn't want him risking the trip back to Oldale town. Kid's probably talked their ears off, bless their souls." Professor Birch took a look over to Jordan.

"What's with the Blaziken, Norman?" Professor Birch asked, slapping Norman on the shoulder.

"I didn't think you'd get a Blaziken after what the last one did to your gym. So what's the training regimen start with? Interior decorating?" Norman smiled at his friend's jest.

"Will, I'd like you to meet Blaziken." Jordan stood up at his introduction.

"He's the reason May is here to enjoy her birthday." May's face fell slightly, but when she turned to Jordan, it was smiles as usual.

"I heard you were missing. Did something happen, May?" The Professor asked kindly. May went silent and looked down, a move that surprised the Professor.

"May had a run in with some of the local wildlife." Norman said casually.

"Blaziken showed up to get her out of trouble though."

"Is that so?" The Professor asked, catching on to the subtlety. He looked at Jordan with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I'll be."

Jordan met the Professor's eyes. Something else was at play here, and somehow Jordan was a part of it.

"So how's the research going, Will? Turn up any interesting leads?" Norman asked politely.

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Why don't I show you what I've got." Norman responded, waving the Professor into the house. Grace sat down on the deck and enjoyed her drink. May ran over to Jordan.

"That's Professor Birch." May told him.

"He's one of Hoenn's best known Pokemon Professors!"

A Pokemon Professor. Huh. I wonder what that was all about. Jordan thought. The man seemed amiable enough, but a look in his eyes told Jordan that something else was going on.

...

"So that's the topography of the location. What the devil is making all of the hills sink?" Professor Birch said, leaning over the map.

"My guess, there's a subterranean lake beneath the site that's somehow being rapidly drained." Norman replied.

"How it's happening is what would concern me."

"So the hills start sinking, and the valleys start flooding. This can't be a natural phenomenon." Will said, looking over Norman's notes.

"It could be, but not in rate of time that we're seeing." said Norman.

"It couldn't be a drill and pump, the machine capable of doing that would be the size of an oil rig. We'd have found it by now." Will said.

"There's more." said Norman, tossing down a folder.

"That police report came in last night."

Will opened file and began studying the pictures and reports.

"Stars above… How could anyone do this?"

"How has ceased to be relevant, all I want to know now is the why." Norman said darkly.

"Those poor pokemon… any idea who could be responsible?"

"Read on." Norman said.

"There was a body found in the woodlands nearby. From the state of the trees and the decomposition of the body, we can only speculate that this happened a couple of weeks ago."

"That was a reserve! They had no right to go in there and do that!" said Will, grabbing his hair and pulled it in frustration.

"I don't think they gave a damn about the reservation, or the pokemon living there." Norman said impassively.

"Whatever they wanted, they took it and left a path of destruction in their wake."

"Anything unusual about the body? Anything that could help identify it?"

"Not much. The only thing we could find unusual was a broken knife a couple meters from the body. All we could piece together was whoever it was, the broken knife belonged to them."

"Do you think they were an accomplice to the crime, or just an innocent witness that got disposed of?"

"I don't know, but if we could find out, we could secure seizure rights to any evidence pertaining to what happened at the reserve. That could give us a larger jurisdiction to investigate, maybe then we could find some answers."

"Yeah, getting some answers out of Rustboro's tight lipped council would be tremendously helpful to the investigation. Have you personally surveyed the sight yet?"

"I was suppose to today," Norman said.

"But then May went missing."

"Yeah, about that." Will began.

"What happened?"

Norman relayed May's story to the Professor. Though Will remained silent throughout the tale, his face regularly twisted with disbelief at the behaviors of the pokemon involved.

"He buried it? Are you sure May didn't make that part up? I mean the Swellow trying to kill her was hard pill to swallow, but a pokemon burying another pokemon?"

"I found it hard to believe as well. I've certainly never heard of such behavior from a pokemon, much less a Blaziken; who, let's not forget, aren't exactly the world's most brilliant creatures."

"Still sore about the gym, huh?" Professor Birch smiled at Norman.

"My daughter's alive because of the actions taken by that Blaziken. Whatever resentment I held for their kind died the instant May told me her story." Norman said vehemently.

"Also, yes." Norman added as an afterthought. Will just laughed.

"Hang on," Will said, searching through the report.

"I know I saw it in here somewhere…"

"What are you looking for?" Norman asked, striding over to where the professor sat.

"Here it is." Will said, flicking the sheet.

"A list of all the pokemon that went missing after the attack."

"Don't tell me there's a Blaziken on there." Said Norman.

"No..." Will answered, scanning the list.

"I'd find that highly unlikely… Bingo."

"Half a swarm of Taillow and a single Swellow." Will said.

"One of only two Swellows in the entire reservation."

"What happened to the other one?" Norman asked, suddenly alert.

"Died defending her nest, along with the other half of the Taillow population."

"Dear God, no wonder why they attacked May." Norman breathed.

"This at least explains their aggression."

"Mmh… Doesn't answer a damn thing about that Blaziken, though." Will noted.

"Christ, you should've heard what Grace had to say about that Blaziken." Norman said.

"You'd think it was suffering from PTSD or some such nonsense. She actually wants May to take it with her on her journey. Can you believe that?"

Norman turned to Will, and was surprised to see him raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, don't tell me you think it's a good idea." Norman said in disgust. Will just shrugged, polished off the last dram in his glass, and turned back to Norman.

"What I'm thinking is that you have a body to exhume, and I have cadaver to examine."

...

The meal was ready. Rather than dine indoors, Grace had opted for the serene outdoor setting. She has set the deck table for five, and brought steaming plates of food out to her family and guests. Norman had been a little perturbed at the Blaziken's admission to the table. Grace honestly thought that Blaziken would be more comfortable dining with them than eating in the yard. No more than two minutes into the repast, and a stunned silence overcame the table.

Blaziken calmly placed his cutlery back on the napkin, and looked at each of the three adults in turn as if to ask, What?

"Norman my friend, your training methods should be administered to every household in Hoenn," Professor Birch broke the awkward silence.

"Your Blaziken is better mannered than my son."

Grace smiled into her wine glass, May beamed across the table to her father, who was finding it difficult to maintain a straight face.

"I didn't teach Blaziken his proper dining etiquette, as my daughter can attest." Norman said sternly as May shoveled half her plate into her mouth. May grinned sheepishly at her father, her cheeks bulging with food. Norman buried his face in his hands. Near death experiences could only mature a girl so much. Grace lightly tapped May on the back of the head, reminding her not to be rude. The Professor just laughed.

When the meal had concluded, all sat back to enjoy the setting sun and the sensation of a full stomach. Norman poured Blaziken a glass of wine, attempting to apologize for putting him into the spotlight earlier. Watching Blaziken discreetly, Norman noticed that though Blaziken was as well mannered as ever, even joining in to toast May for her birthday, he seemed to have difficulty drinking from a wine glass. This was expressed moments after the toast when Blaziken attempted to sample his wine. Moving like a human would, Blaziken lifted his wine, and bumped the glass into his beak. Clearly accustomed to handling crystal, it seemed odd for him to not know how to drink from a wine glass. It was as if he had forgotten that he had a beak. After Blaziken's mishap, which everyone noticed, Blaziken decidedly placed it's glass on the table, the wine untouched. Not even Will could summon a joke to alleviate Blaziken from this awkward silence.

Norman, feeling innovative, went into the house, and returned with shot glasses and liquor. First pouring Blaziken a shot, then one for himself and Will, Norman once again raised a toast.

"To Blaziken, for my daughter's safe return." May lifted her Shirley Temple, Grace her wine, and Will raised both his wine and his shot glass. Blaziken looked at them all, a sad twinkle to his eyes. Blaziken shook his head and cleared his throat, before tossing back his head and downing his shot.

Goddamn, this thing is peculiar! Norman thought. He was beginning understand to what Grace had meant. Taking a quick look at Will, Norman checked to see if his friend had noticed. A slight nod was Will's answer. Grace looked across at her husband. Her expression read, Do you get it now? Shaking his head in disbelief, Norman poured the next round.

"Hey May," Professor Birch started.

"I have something for the birthday girl." The Professor procured a package.

"I'm not much good at wrapping, but Brendan had some pointers for me." Will handed his parcel to May.

"I hope you like Mudkips."

May tore into her present, pausing briefly to 'aww' at the Mudkips festooning the wrapping. Opening the box, May retrieved a pristine red electronic device.

"What is it?" May asked excitedly.

"It's a Pokedex, the latest model." Will said, suppressing his own excitement.

"It can track and identify the Pokemon you come across in your journey, carries a GPS, alert you to weather updates, and it has a digital copy of your trainer's license." Will continued.

May flipped open her pokedex and pointed it at Blaziken.

"Blaziken, The Blaze Pokemon." An electronic voice droned.

"Though incapable of flight, this avian pokemon has the highest recorded leaping distance among terran-bound pokemon. When in battle, Blaziken can project flames from its wrists and ankles, allowing it to augment its innate martial skills with scorching attacks."

"It forgot to mention Blaziken's natural capability to destroy perfectly good buildings." Norman added, a smile on his face.

"It's new software, Norman. I'm sure that such useful information will be added in a future update." Will said impishly.

"Thank you Professor! It's so cool!" May said, testing the Pokedex out on her father.

"Norman, the stiff necked pokemon," Grace said in a mocking electronic voice.

"Almost impossible to reason with, Norman knows what's best for everything. Though difficult at times, he still manages to be a loving father and a good husband. When in battle, he often resorts to obtuse remarks to demoralize his foes."

Norman stared at his wife, a playful smile on his lips.

"May, point that thing at your mother." Norman said.

"I think that's enough exploration into your parent's relationship, May." The good Professor said.

"Why don't you put it away before I suffer regrets?"

May, smiling the same smile as her parents, closed the pokedex.

"May, here's the gift from your mother and I." Norman said, pulling a backpack from below the table.

"Go ahead and open it."

May opened the bag, digging out a compression sleeping bag, a full titanium cooking set, a dozen different means to produce a fire, dozens and dozens of packaged dried foodstuffs, a sophisticated first aid kit, toilet paper, a pocket knife, portable water purifier, and several other camping and survival orientated gear. Lastly, May produced a belt with a row of six pokeballs.

"Daddy…" May looked at the pokeballs with watering eyes, a happy smile on her face.

"Your mother picked out the camping gear, you're going to need it for your adventure, but the pokeballs…" Norman paused, drawing his daughter's attention back to him.

"Keep those handy, because tomorrow we're going to catch your first pokemon, just you and I."

Grace started, and May's face fell.

"But daddy, I wanted Blaziken to come with me on my adventure." May, far from being happy with her father's gift, seemed crestfallen. Norman's face hardened. He was afraid that this was going to happen.

"Listen to me, May." Norman took his daughter by the shoulders and spoke gently to her.

"Blaziken is way above your ability to command. I know you're attached to him, but remember what he went through for you. He deserves some rest."

"But daddy-" May began crying.

"May, please. You almost got Blaziken killed. Your mother and I will look after him while you're gone. You can see him whenever you visit us, I promise."

"Daddy, I-"

"May! Blaziken is too much pokemon for a novice trainer! You don't have the experience to keep him under control or satisfied! You'll only end up getting him hurt again!"

May was crying now. Grace was giving her husband a scathing glare. Will had decided that there was something interesting on his sandals, and was studying his feet intently.

"May, would you stop being selfish and-?" a hand gently touched Norman's shoulder, interrupting him. Looking back over his shoulder, Norman was surprised to see that Blaziken was the one who had intervened. Gently pulling Norman away from the stunned May, Blaziken stood before her. Without warning or any indication of his intents, Blaziken slowly descended to a knee before May, and bowed his head. Once again, the bizarre, yet empathetic behavior of Blaziken silenced the night.

"Blaziken…" May breathed in disbelief. Blaziken's eyes rose to meet hers. Placing her hands on Blaziken's shoulders, May looked to her father, still stunned.

Norman had resigned the argument. It saddened him to have lost the opportunity to catch May her first pokemon, but the dedication and regality of Blaziken astounded him. He now understood completely what Grace had been trying to tell him before. It touched him deeply to see such loyalty from a pokemon that had suffered so much for his daughter already. Drawing a deep breath, Norman released a sigh.

"Well that's that, then." Norman said to all.

Chapter 13: Complications, Resolutions

Norman bid farewell to Will, while Grace cleaned up after dinner. Returning to the kitchen, Norman assisted his wife with the dishes.

"Talk about a crazy day." Norman said, drying the dishes.

"What happened to May?"

"She's outside, pitching camp with Blaziken." Grace replied.

"She's sleeping outside tonight?" Norman asked.

"Well, she has a full camping kit and her first pokemon. Seems like a good idea for her to get familiar with living on her own in the safety of our backyard."

"That's an awfully different tune from the one you started with this morning." Norman said.

"What changed your mind about the trainer thing?"

"Norman, you made some good points, but I actually think that May would be safer travelling with that Blaziken than she would be in our own house." Grace informed him.

"Yeah." Norman murmured.

"I'll tell you, that Blaziken is something else."

Grace said nothing, and continued to clean. Norman however, still had questions.

"Where did it come from? And why the hell is it so… human?" Norman asked the ceiling.

"That's an awfully different track you're playing, dear. What changed your mind about the Blaziken thing?" Grace asked.

"Blaziken did." Norman said bluntly.

"Did you see the way it acted? I've been training pokemon since I was May's age, I've been around all of the regions, and I've never- never seen a pokemon that could imitate human behavior so convincingly."

"I thought the looks Blaziken gave us was the most incredible bit. You could practically tell what it was thinking. It was like Blaziken wanted us to know what it was thinking." Grace said, somewhat nervously.

"That Blaziken is one in a million, that's for sure. And it went ahead and gave itself to our daughter." Norman said.

"I don't know if I should be flattered or concerned."

"May will learn. Blaziken trusts her, and is more than capable of taking care of May and himself."

"But still, a Blaziken for a starter? That's like giving a toddler a supercar. Nothing good can come of that." Norman said, regressing to his old state of mind.

"Blaziken is sentient. Cars, super or otherwise, are not. Norman, have some faith in May. Have some faith in Blaziken. He's certainly earned it." Grace was steadfast.

"You're right, you're right. Blaziken has proven himself. And May is my daughter after all. She has to have some of my skill." Norman said, drawing comfort from his own words.

Norman and Grace finished washing the kitchen, and Grace poured them both another glass of wine. Turning to her husband, a mischievous glint shone in Grace's eyes.

"So what was the pokedex going to say about the Grace pokemon?"

"Let's see here…" Norman paused, a smile raising the corners of his mouth.

"Grace, The Bullheaded Pokemon." Norman forwent the digital dialect.

"Considered to be the most beautiful and stubborn Pokemon in existence." Norman balanced flaw with flattery.

"She's a loving mother, and a wonderful cook. She is also the only known weakness of the otherwise invincible Norman pokemon-"

"That's enough out of you." Grace kissed her husband, cutting him short. Downing the wine in her glass, Grace flounced over to her and Norman's bedroom. Beckoning to Norman with a seductive smile on her lips, Grace closed the door behind her. Norman finished his drink, straightened an imaginary tie, and headed to the bedroom in pursuit of Grace.

...

"I can't wait, Blaziken!" May stared at the moonless night sky.

"Soon you and I will get to see the world! Just you, me, and all the pokemon we catch!"

I think I know what it is about you, May. Jordan thought, looking at his ward. May turned her gaze from the starry sky and looked at Jordan.

Everyone else treats me like a pokemon trying to be a human. Jordan said.

"What's that look for, Blaziken?" May said a slight edge of concern in her voice.

You just treat me like I'm human. That's all I wanted. You take the edge off. Jordan said sadly, recalling how Chrissie used to look at him that same way when he tried to keep something from her. Chrissie had always known when Jordan was feeling down. Chrissie had always seen through his fake smiles.

"Blaziken?" May's smile was gone, it had been replaced by genuine concern.

Do you read me so easily as well, May? Jordan said, trying his best to appear tranquil. May's smile returned, but it was somewhat subdued by the lingering worry in her eyes.

Apparently so.

"We should get some sleep. I think we'll leave tomorrow, if mom and dad don't hold us up." Despite her words, emotion crept into May's voice at the mention of leaving her parents.

You're not fooling anyone, May. We can leave when you're ready to leave. Jordan said. His eyes must have told May some of his thoughts, because her face softened and she relaxed. Climbing into her sleeping bag, May turned to Jordan who lay a few paces away from her.

"Good night, Blaziken." May bade, her eyes closing.

Good night, May… and thank you. Jordan rolled over and closed his own eyes. Something told Jordan he could actually sleep tonight. A comfort completely unknown to Jordan had been granted to him. May's soft breathing filled his ears as Jordan's weary body succumbed to sleep.

...

Norman quietly crossed the yard where Blaziken and May slept peacefully. May had a smile on her sleepy face, and Blaziken looked more at ease now than he had at any other point in the entire day. Just looking at the two of them made Norman's heart glow with love.

"You're something special, Blaziken." Norman whispered as he lifted the sleeping May from the ground.

"I'm glad to have you looking after my daughter." Looking at Blaziken one last time, Norman carried May into the house, and put her in her bed. He wasn't quite ready to turn May over to Blaziken just yet. Kissing his sleeping daughter on the forehead, Norman retired to his own bed.

Norman woke, his heart racing. He had heard a noise in his sleep. Grace stirred from the bedsheets beside him.

"Norman-"

"Shh." Norman cut her worried tone off and listened. There it was again, a strangled shriek.

"What was that?" Grace whispered. A painful coo followed.

"Blaziken!" Whispered Norman, tossing off his sheets and running to the deck.

"Norman!" Grace hesitated to follow him. Norman opened the door outside just in time to hear another agonized cry from Blaziken. Struggling to see in moonless night, Norman's eyes finally made out the shape of Blaziken tossing in the yard where Norman had left him. Norman rushed to the seizuring pokemon, trying to discern what was going on. Norman froze when he got close enough to see what was happening. Blaziken had curled up into a quivering ball, but something Norman couldn't see was prying Blaziken's fetal form apart. A sudden and violent jerk, and Blaziken resembled a man crucified. Blaziken released another pained cry. His limbs began to bend opposite of the direction that his anatomy dictated. Blaziken's ragged breath was punctured by a tortured moan. Not comprehending what was happening before him, Norman never the less overcame the dread, urgency driving him to the injured pokemon's side.

"Blaziken!" Norman shook the pokemon's shoulders, desperately trying to wake him.

"Blaziken, wake up!" Blaziken's breathing accelerated, his spasms tearing himself free of Norman's grasp. Staggering to keep up, Norman grabbed the thrashing pokemon and shook it roughly. Norman needed to wake him. Blaziken was beginning to freak Norman out.

"Blaziken!" Blaziken's eyes shot open. He grabbed Norman's shoulder and dug his claws in.

"Norman!" Grace shrieked from the deck. Norman winced against the pain, he felt blood beginning to run down his back. Blaziken was hyperventilating. Dragging itself desperately up to Norman's face, Norman saw it's eyes. Terror. Pure thought-destroying terror. Blaziken was scared out of his mind. Recognizing Norman, some flicker of itself shone in Blaziken's eyes. It's breathing became heavy, and it's entire body shook. Overcome with pity, Norman pulled Blaziken close. Burying the pokemon's head in his bleeding shoulder, he held Blaziken like a worried father held a frightened child.

"It's okay, you're okay. You're okay. I've got you. Shh… it's okay." Norman rocked the quivering Blaziken back and forth. Tears ran freely down Norman's face. Even though Blaziken's sharp claws were still digging into his shoulder, Norman's tears were not born of bodily pain. The look in Blaziken's eyes haunted Norman.

"Mommy, what's going on? Daddy?" May voice changed from sleepy to horrified when she saw her father's robe stained with blood.

"What's happening?! Daddy is Blaziken okay?!"

"Grace, get May back into bed. Shh. You're okay, you're safe. Shhh…" Norman rocked Blaziken, the talons were beginning to loosen. Blaziken's breathing had become a series of painful coos. He was beginning to relax.

"Shhh… You're okay… shhh…"

...

"I'm telling you Will, something happened to that Blaziken. Something unforgivable." Norman sat in Professor Birch's lab, giving his friend an account of last night's calamity. Will brought his stressed friend a cup of coffee. Norman was in rare form this morning. The only time Birch had seen Norman like this before was when May had done something dangerously stupid with Macaroni.

"I've never seen anything so scared in my life. It was like… like he lost everything." Norman shuddered.

"Lost everything?" Will asked, curious at his friend's phrasing. Norman shook his head.

"Nothing get's thatkind of a look worrying only about itself." Norman inhaled his coffee.

"And your shoulder?" Will inquired to his friends health.

"It burns. He didn't mean to hurt me. If he had, he could've turned me into bloody ribbons." Norman was clearly unconcerned about his shoulder.

"And is May still going to take him with her on her adventure?" Will asked. Norman shook his head.

"No. I want them to travel together, but that Blaziken is almost too much for me to handle." Norman answered.

"So you still intend to keep it?" Will asked.

"Of course. What kind of monster do you think I am that I would abandon a pokemon that's hurting that badly?" Norman said.

"Interesting." Will said.

"Twisted is more like it. There's a place reserved in hell for people who break pokemon like the way that Blaziken's been broken." Norman said venomously.

"I meant the part where you checked Blaziken and thought all was well, followed by the events leading up to his night terrors." Will said.

"What?" Norman asked.

"Did Blaziken go back to sleep?"

"No, and I can't say I blame him. When he saw what he did to my shoulder, he tried to run."

"Do you know why he tried to run?" Will pressed Norman for every scrap of information.

"Guilt, fear. I don't know. Blaziken looked horrified when he saw what he'd done. He just pushed me away and tried to run."

"What happened then?"

"I pinned Blaziken down and restrained him until he calmed down." Norman said. Both of Will's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"You pinned a disturbed Blaziken, and held it down with your bare hands?" Will's voice was layered with disbelief and admiration.

"He didn't fight back. Like I said, If he wanted to hurt me, I'd have a lot more damage to show for it than some punctures in my shoulder." Norman reminded.

"Where is he now?" Will asked.

"At the house, keeping his distance. May's pretty broken up about that. She tried to play with him, but Blaziken just gave her this helpless look. Like it was all his fault."

"He's got an interesting way of communicating, that's for sure." Will said.

"You have no idea." Norman said, worried. Rubbing his eyes, Norman took a steadying breath.

"You mentioned something that you found 'interesting.' " Norman reminded Will.

"Yes. How long was it after you put May to bed that Blaziken had his episode?" Will asked.

"Twenty, maybe thirty minutes. It wasn't very long, I'd just gotten to bed myself." Norman answered. "Why?"

"I think sleeping close to May might have kept him comfortable. You said it yourself, Blaziken was more relaxed sleeping next to May then he'd been all day." Will answered.

"You think May was keeping him from having nightmares? Really?" Norman looked at Will incredulously.

"Norman, that bird had sleep deprivation written all over it. It went through hell to protect May. If Blaziken was comfortable enough to sleep around May, it must have felt that May would be safe around it. If Blaziken acts like a human, then maybe we should treat him like a human." Will said sternly. Norman froze, reflecting on what Will had just said.

"You're not a Pokemon Professor for nothing, Will. That makes a lot more sense than I would've thought." Norman said.

"Did you forget my reputation?" Will mocked. Norman eased up a bit, before asking Will the next question.

"Do you have the supplies?" Norman asked.

"You're going to do that now? Norman, go get some sleep. You're almost in as of bad shape as Blaziken." Will told his friend.

"We need to get to that Swellow before anything else does. That, and I need to talk to May. Away from her mother and Blaziken."

"She still thinks she's going to take Blaziken with her?" Will asked, handing Norman a backpack.

"God, Norman. Your child is brave."

"If what you say is right Will, then the best thing for Blaziken is to stay close to May." Norman said, shouldering the pack.

"And I'm still not convinced that it isn't best thing for May either."

...

Norman and May made their way towards the glade where May had been attacked yesterday. Even though the Swellow was dead and the Taillow had dispersed, Norman wasn't taking any chances. His Slaking stood at the ready in it's pokeball, and it was many times more powerful than Blaziken. May had been reluctant to leave Blaziken behind. Blaziken had never moved from the spot Norman had told him to wait at last night. He had spent the entire morning staring at his talons, a depressed expression on his face. May had never left Blaziken's side, nor had she slept last night either.

"Norman, you're hurt!" Grace started pulling off the bloody robe to treat his shoulder.

"I'm fine. It's just a little blood." Norman allowed her to attend to his wounds however.

"What happened, Norman? Was Blaziken attacked?" Grace asked. Norman buried his eyes in his hand.

"You were right, Grace." Norman said, his voice rife with emotion.

"Something happened to that Blaziken. Something far worse than either of us could imagine…"

"What happened to him, Norman?" Grace asked faintly.

"I don't know, but when I looked in his eyes, I could tell. He was desperate, Grace. He was hurt and scared out of his goddamn mind. He reached out to me. He needed me. He needs someone, Grace."

"Norman, you know I'd gladly give him a home here, but what about May?" Grace asked.

"That Blaziken isn't in any shape for travelling around with an accident prone rookie. If I let him go with May, I'd be condemning him to death." Norman said. A choking noise followed by a rapid dash up the stairs alerted them to May's eavesdropping. Her bedroom door slammed and her sobbing could be heard from above.

"May!" Grace headed towards the stairs.

"Grace, no." Said Norman.

"Norman she's devastated! Probably scared sick about what happened! We need to give her an explanation!"

"In the morning. We've all been through hell today. Let's all just-" A thumping sound from May's room interrupted Norman.

"May!" Norman raced up the stairs and burst through his daughter's bedroom door. May was trying to climb out the window. Sighing, Norman walked over to his daughter's window and gently pulled her back into the house.

"No! Let me go! I need to see Blaziken! I have to see Blaziken! He needs me! Let me go!" May writhed in her father's arms.

"May," Norman said, exhausted.

"You need to go to bed."

"No! Blaziken needs me, daddy! You said it yourself! He needs someone! He needs his trainer!" May had become absolutely hysterical at this point.

Norman began crying again. This day had been just one emotional trial after another for him. May stopped struggling. Her father's tears had that effect on her.

"May, Blaziken needs time alone right now. He's hurt May, in more ways than one, and you would only complicate things for him. Please, If you really do care about Blaziken, wait for the morning."

"Daddy... I need to know he's going to be okay." May pleaded.

"I don't know, May. I want him to be okay has badly as you do, but he's hurting in a way we can't help him with yet."

"Daddy…"

"Please... May… go to bed. Do it for Blaziken. Do it for me." Norman held his daughter close, proud of her for her commitment to her pokemon. Proud that she cared so strongly for her pokemon. Proud that she was his daughter.

Now May walked with her father, back to the place where she had been attacked.

"May," Norman began. May looked up at her father.

"I don't know if Blaziken will be up to the journey you had planned for him." May's shoulders slumped, her depression only deepened with the confirmation of last night's decision.

"But I think I might have a way of finding out."

"Daddy?" May asked looking up at her father, a twinkle of hope in her voice.

"I probably shouldn't get your hopes up, but the Professor gave me an idea." Norman looked severely at his now beaming daughter, grounding her back to reality.

"If it works, May, you have to promise me something." Norman's tone was serious, bordering on regret for telling her this much.

"Anything, Daddy!" May whispered, her previous joy replaced by resolve.

"May, you might have been right. Blaziken could very well need you. You need to understand what that means. Blaziken is a living thing. He's hurt. Bad. You will have to look after him. This won't be a normal relationship between a trainer and their pokemon. I know that he'd protect you with his life. Blaziken has exercised the capacity for self sacrifice. He would die for you if the circumstances required it." Norman looked hard at his daughter. May's resolve had only strengthened during the discussion. The gravity of his words had not been lost on her.

"May, for the love of God, don't put Blaziken in a situation like that. You. will. kill him."

May's face hardened. She absorbed every word, understood the responsibility her father was entrusting her with.

"He needs to heal, May. Only time and love will close his wounds. You already have his heart, now you need to protect it."

"I will. I promise I will." May said carefully. May sounded more mature than she'd ever sounded before.

"May, I can't stress this enough. You really could kill Blaziken. You're going to have to grow up a lot faster than normal." Norman said.

"I understand, daddy." May looked her father in the eye.

"I promise that I'll keep Blaziken safe."

"Just remember May, we still don't know if Blaziken can join you. Nothing's set in stone yet." Norman reminded her. Norman pushed aside a low hanging branch, and entered the glade. May hesitated to go any further. The trauma of yesterday's events were still too fresh for her. This place had been May's and Brendan's home away from home. Their private playground. And now all of those fond memories were sullied by the attack. May's childhood haven would never be the same again.

Norman let May be, giving her the time she needed to continue. Looking around the glade, Norman sought the grave. He could hardly miss it. May hadn't exaggerated in the least. The stones were piled orderly, and a flattened hunk of split hematite served as a headstone. A drying lily rested on the headstone, a contribution from May. Norman had to stop. This was so obviously a grave that ceremony dictated his actions. Folding his hands together, Norman said a silent prayer for the Swellow. Even though it had tried to kill his daughter, he understood it's motives. Norman quailed at the thought of what losing his family would do to him. May caught up to him. Seeing the grave again, her initial fear was replaced by sorrow. Norman was amazed that his daughter had not only forgiven the Swellow, but mourned for it as well. May didn't even know what Norman knew about it. May's empathy gave Norman some comforting pride in his daughter.

"So… this is where it all happened." Norman said at last. May nodded, words still difficult for her. Sighing, Norman put a hand on May's shoulder and pulled her close. May slipped her hand in his and squeezed gently. They stood like that before the grave for a moment. Norman sniffed, and breaking contact with May, began shifting the stones.

"Daddy? What are you doing?" May asked, worried. Norman remained silent, then reaching into his pack, procured a collapsible trowel.

"Daddy stop! Blaziken worked hard on that! He wouldn't want you to dig up Swellow's grave!" May grabbed her father's arm, horrified at what her father was doing.

"May, daddy and the Professor need this Swellow." Norman explained.

"We need to know where it came from, and why it tried to hurt you."

"But daddy…" May's eyes were watering.

"Honey, we'll put Swellow back into the grave that Blaziken made for him. Then we can have a proper ceremony for him, I promise." Norman said. May hesitated.

"Daddy…" Norman held his daughter, his pride in her stung the corners of his eyes.

"May, we need to know. We need to know so that people and pokemon don't get hurt again. So that Blaziken won't have to dig anymore graves." Norman said, staring into his daughter's eyes.

"O-Okay." May said weakly, finally conceding. That last part told.

...

Jordan stared at his talons. Once again, he had hurt someone. He hadn't meant to. Norman understood that, but Jordan couldn't forgive himself, nor could he accept his monstrous nature.

"It's okay. You're okay, Blaziken. It's all over. You're okay." Norman rocked Jordan back and forth, calling past the terrified creature, pulling Jordan from the depth's of his fear. Jordan hung to him, burying his face in Norman's shoulder. He found comfort in Norman's arms. A comfort that had been denied to him for five long years. Jordan almost felt safe. Then he noticed the blood. Pulling his talons out of Norman's shoulder, Jordan was horrified to see the wounds he had inflicted in his moment of weakness. Norman noticed Jordan's shame and regret.

"It's okay. I'm fine." Norman said.

'No.' Jordan said.

'It's not okay, It's not okay!' Why? Why did his body turn everything he did into something monstrous? Why did he hurt everyone around him? These people had shown him a kindness he had never believed could be his. And he had ruined it. How could it be okay?

Pushing Norman away, Jordan made to run.

"Blaziken!" Norman grabbed him.

'Let me go! I don't want to hurt you!' Jordan pressed his talons against his own chest, curling them in to avoid harming Norman. He struggled against Norman's grip. Norman pulled him to the ground. Jordan could have stopped him, but his spirit had been defeated. He wanted Norman to be angry with him, he wanted Norman to punish him. Norman pinned Jordan down, gently, but firmly exuding his weight over Jordan's shoulders, forcing Jordan to face him.

"Relax. You didn't hurt me." Norman spoke strongly. Jordan looked at him, lost and disbelieving.

"I'm bleeding. So what? What happened to you?" Norman's voice carried no trace of pity. It was calm, and caring. Jordan looked up at him, overwhelmed.

"Just relax. I'm far more worried about you than a couple of scratches on my back." How could Norman be so calm? How did he stay in control like that?

"Blaziken," Norman started slowly.

"I don't want you to leave. I can't let you leave. Not until you get better. You need help, and I'll be damned if I'm going to deny it to you." Norman released Jordan, and stood back.

"Stay here. Stay with us. I don't want you to get yourself hurt trying to make it all alone."

Jordan felt his nostrils water. Norman honestly meant it.

"Stay with us. Like it or not, you're part of our family now."

Family… Chrissie dead. Mother dead. And Jordan was to blame. That was family. That was the family Jordan knew. Sorrow was his sibling, regret his progenitor. Loss was the only family Jordan had ever had. What Norman was offering was a family that Jordan could only remembered in distant dreams. The family that he had killed. Jordan couldn't do that to Norman. He couldn't do that to Grace. He'd kill himself before he harmed a hair on May's head.

"Please, Blaziken. I'll restrain you again if I have to." It wasn't an idle suggestion, Norman was serious. Jordan looked at Norman, staggered at the man's humanity. Maybe everything that had happened before had been leading up to this point. Perhaps fate had decreed Jordan be given a second chance at having a family.

Jordan fell on his rump, and stared at his talons. Norman walked to him and placed a hand on Jordan's shoulder.

"I need to clean up, and calm May and Grace down. You stay right here. Don't even think of leaving unless you want to inconvenience me with the task of hunting you down and bringing you back home." Norman said sternly. Jordan looked up at him, believing Norman would actually do it. A moment of thanks emanated from Jordan's eyes, before his conscious punished him for it.

"Stay here. We'll get you taken care of tomorrow." Norman didn't dare suggest Blaziken sleep. Norman had seen what sleep did to him.

Family… Thought Jordan. If he accepted his new family, would he have to abandon his old? Would mother stop haunting him? Would Chrissie stop talking to him?

Chrissie. I can't give you up. I won't let you go. Jordan thought.

I love you Chrissie…

"Jordi?"

Chrissie… Jordan heard his sister's voice.

"Go with May. Please Jordi, go with May!"

But Chrissie…

"Please. Go with May and find my brother. You promised me you would!"

I did promise, didn't I?

"Yes you did. Go find the brother I had so long ago. May will show you the way."

Will you still talk to me Chrissie?

"I will always be with you, Jordi. Always."

That's all I needed to hear.

"I love you Jordi."

I love you too, Chrissie.

A presence settled down at the edge of Jordan's consciousness. It was Grace.

"Norman and May went out to the glade to see how everything was going," Grace told Jordan.

"I could use some help around the house, if you're willing." Grace wanted his help? Jordan pulled himself out of his stupor. Rising, he looked at Grace expectantly.

Just tell me what to do.

Grace had Blaziken wash, and then set him to preparing vegetables for lunch. Though Grace was still amazed at how Blaziken understood housekeeping and cooking, his surprises were becoming far too common to be unexpected. It didn't unnerve her at all to discover that he could iron Norman's shirts, or that he did it well. Blaziken's cleanliness and organization, compounded with his work ethic exhausted the supply of chores around the house rather quickly. Lastly, the two of them worked together to make a decadent lunch for the family.

"I'm glad to finally get some help around the house." Grace bantered.

"What with Norman working at the gym, and May running off to pretend she's a pokemon trainer, I swear this place never gets cleaned properly." Blaziken brought the vegetables he had sliced over to Grace, who was busy working a pie crust into a casserole dish.

"I hope you like chicken pot pie." Grace said.

"I know it's a little unseasonable, but we have all the ingredients and with your help, I can scratch one out before lunch."

Isn't that cannibalism? Jordan thought, surveying packages of chicken breasts. Following Jordan's gaze, Grace noticed the source of his discomfort.

"Oh…" Grace put a floured hand over her mouth in horror.

"I didn't mean, I mean I didn't know-" Jordan picked up the packet of meat, and stared at it. Taking it over to the cutting board, Jordan opened the packet, and began to clean and cut up the chicken breasts.

"Oh- Okay then." Grace said, grateful that the potential disaster had been averted.

...

May ran into the house, the smell of food cooking in the oven filled her nose. Frantic, May tore towards the kitchen, calling for her mother.

"Mom! Where's Blaziken?! He wasn't in the yard!" May charged into mother as she rounded the corner.

"May-"

"Mom! Did Blaziken leave? We need to find him!" May was almost crying.

"May-"

"Please mom, we-"

"MAY!" Grace practically had to shout over her daughter's hysteria. Blaziken walked out of the kitchen, a towel draped over his shoulder.

"Blaziken!" May said, astounded. Leaving her frazzled mother behind, May ran over to Blaziken, practically bowling him over with a hug. Blaziken looked apologetically over to Grace, who was too busy laughing to notice.

"May, let Blaziken go so he can breathe." Grace said, prying May's arms off of Blaziken. Grace was still smiling. Having seen the light in her daughter's eyes when Blaziken had entered the room shifted Grace's mood from frustrated to amused. May really did love that pokemon.

"May, where is your father?" Grace asked. May's face changed a bit, she looked worriedly over towards Blaziken.

"He, uh, had something he had to do with Professor Birch." May said hesitantly. Sensing a secret, Grace decided not to press.

"Well in that case, go get washed up and finish putting the dishes away. Blaziken already did all your other chores." Grace instructed her daughter.

"Mom had you do the dishes? Mommmm…" May groaned. Blaziken's eyes laughed, as he looking warmly down at May.

...

"May wasn't exaggerating." Norman told Will.

"It was a grave alright. The only thing missing was a twenty-one gun salute and the bagpipes."

Will put the Swellow's body in cold storage. He needed to prep his lab before he could perform the autopsy.

"I can't say that I'm surprised. I saw enough of Blaziken's behavior to rewrite everything we thought we knew about human-pokemon imprinting. I honestly didn't think a Blaziken had enough brain power to do perform a fraction of what yours does so naturally."

"Yeah." Norman sat down and rubbed his eyes.

"Norman, you look like shit. Get some sleep already." Will admonished.

"I will, later tonight. I want to try something."

"What? Sleeping? It's a fairly natural response to the body's necessities." Will joked.

"You got me thinking, Will."

"About the Blaziken?" Will asked.

"I'm going to try sleeping with it." Birch raised an eyebrow.

"You sure that's a good idea, Norman?"

"I need to try it." Norman said.

"You have a wife and child, man!"

"I'll be fine, I don't know why you're making such a big deal about it." Norman snapped.

"You know it's a little late for you to consider changing your sexual preference, oh... and bestiality is generally frowned upon." The Professor grinned.

"But hey, whatever makes you happy." Norman's response was to raise a middle finger.

"You know what I meant." Norman growled.

"Do you think it will work?" Will asked, becoming serious.

"Like I said, I have to try." Norman answered.

"What about May?" Norman looked at his friend, a smile played on his lips. Will sat back, waiting for Norman to explain.

"That Blaziken could be the best thing that ever happened to my daughter." Norman stated.

"You mean, besides the whole life saving thing?" Will asked.

"May's given me more reason to hope ever since Blaziken entered her life. I've never seen her so mature, or so confident. When it comes to that Blaziken, he really does bring out the best in my daughter." Norman said.

"You're not considering letting May bring Blaziken with her?" Will asked, wondering if Norman's pride in his daughter had clouded his judgement.

"I'm hoping Will. I'm hoping she can." Norman said, smiling.

...

Norman sat down at the deck table. Blaziken was seated next to him. It was good to see that Grace had managed to pull him out of his depression. Even so, the bird looked exhausted. Norman wondered why he hadn't noticed earlier. He had assumed the weariness had developed as result of Blaziken's battle with the Swellow. Now knowing what Norman knew about Blaziken's night terrors, Norman could no longer pass those bruised eyelids or slumped shoulders off as battle fatigue. Blaziken had likely fought the Swellow in such a condition. The fact he had managed to win the battle in such a state was a testament to Blaziken's unbelievable will.

If he's that strong half dead, how much more powerful will he be when he's fully recovered? Norman thought. They might just find out tomorrow. It all depended on if his plan worked or not. Norman was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. He couldn't remember a month in his life he had fought back tears as much as he had these past two days. Carrying the Swellow's corpse from the glade to Will's lab had taken it's toll on his sleepless body. Yet Norman refused to take a nap. The more tired he was, the longer he would sleep. The longer Norman would sleep, the longer Blaziken could rest. Or so Norman hoped.

Grace and May brought out the early evening meal. Rather than do a lunch without Norman, Grace had decided to up the ante by expanding tonight's menu and planning dinner early. May, upon discovering her mother had put Blaziken to work doing the tasks May had neglected, had promptly put Blaziken out on the deck to relax while May handled the new meal plans and clean up with her mother. Just another example of how Blaziken had changed his daughter for the better, Norman decided. Though Norman doubted that Blaziken had minded assisting around the house, May was clearly scandalized to find out that Grace had given May's hero the auspicious task of ironing Norman's shirts. Blaziken had done a good job of it too, from what Norman had observed.

The chicken pot pie was served with a salad and strawberry tarts. The quantity of food was far beyond the amount that would normally be served for two meals. Digging in to this sumptuous banquet, Norman turned to his daughter, who had insisted on sitting next to Blaziken. Jamming tarts in her mouth with all the civility of a Garbodor, May's smile betrayed nothing of the stress she had experienced the past few days. Yet she had changed profoundly in her attempt to prove herself worthy of Blaziken's loyalty. Even with a mouth so full of sweets that she could hardly close her lips, Norman was astounded at May's newfound maturity. Grace must have felt the same way, for she neglected to administer her customary head tap.

The four of them lingered over the meal, enjoying each other's presence. Sitting in the setting sun they exchanged stories, mostly embarrassing tales from May's childhood. Norman and his family basked in the moment. Tomorrow was the day. Tomorrow Norman would have his answers. Tomorrow, he knew, was the day May headed out on her journey. Whether May left with Blaziken, or a pokemon that Norman would catch for her, was dependent on the answers Norman received.

At long last it was time for bed. Norman had made it clear tonight that May was to sleep inside. Grace was still in the dark to his plan, and showed a certain level of surprise when Norman procured a sleeping bag and made his way into the yard.

"I'll be sleeping outside tonight." Norman stated the obvious. While Grace may have been surprised by his declaration, she knew her husband had something planned. Blaziken however, was staggered. Norman set a foam mat underneath his sleeping bag.

"It's been along time since I slept under the stars with my pokemon." He told Blaziken.

"Hell, I haven't done it since before May was born." Blaziken looked at Norman curiously. Sighing, Norman decided to explain his idea.

"You haven't slept a wink for quite some time, have you?" Norman asked. Shaking his head, Blaziken looked down at the ground.

"Well, I think I know how to prevent your night terrors. Are you willing to try?" Norman asked. Blaziken looked up. Doubt clouded his eyes.

"Blaziken, I want you to go with May. I really do. I know it would be good for May, and I can't help but think you would benefit from it as well." Norman said.

"But I need to know that you can make the journey. You are going to need to sleep. And I think I know how you can sleep without succumbing to your nightmares."

Blaziken looked at Norman in stunned disbelief.

"I trust you with May. I know you wouldn't hurt her. I'm not worried about that. What I am worried about, is you." Norman explained.

"May has changed a lot since you two met, but despite that, May is still inexperienced. And around her, accidents are just waiting to happen. I know what you would risk to protect her. I don't want either one of you hurt, and to eliminate some of the chance of mishaps, you need to be at your best. You need to trust me. You need to trust yourself. Do you understand?"

Blaziken's eyes had gone from surprised to denial to a soft acceptance. Looking at Norman calmly, Blaziken nodded his head. Norman crawled into his sleeping bag, and looked up at the stars.

"I should do this more often. I bet Slaking misses this as much as I do." Norman said, feeling slightly guilty for not having relived his memories with his oldest companion.

"I remember when he was just a little Slakoth, you would never believe the sheer amount of trouble that lazy son of bitch got us into." Norman said fondly. Blaziken listened to Norman's reminiscence. Somehow Norman's voice soothed him, driving Blaziken's fear of sleep to the edge of his mind. Maybe Norman was right. Maybe he could sleep tonight. The thought of being able to travel with May filled Jordan with hope. His eyelids, all to happy to close, dimmed his thoughts. Jordan slipped into a deep sleep.

Chapter 14: The First Step Home

Norman woke to the sound of birds singing. Judging from the slant of the sun, it was past midday.

"I slept too much." Norman groaned, rubbing his eyes. Stretching with a yawn, Norman looked over to where Blaziken had been sleeping. A warm glee rose within Norman, making him chuckle silently. Blaziken was still asleep, his beak was resting on his crossed talons. He looked at peace.

"It worked." Norman whispered.

"Will, you're a genius." Pulling himself out of his sleeping bag, Norman looked to the house. Grace and May were watching the two of them from the deck. Heading over to his wife and child with a smile broken by a yawn, Norman leaned down to kiss Grace.

"Sleep well, love?" She asked.

"Never better. You?" Norman asked.

"It was cold." Grace shrugged.

"Oh-ho..." Norman snuck back in for another kiss. May made a gagging sound behind them.

"How did you sleep, May?" Norman asked his daughter.

"She didn't." Grace said.

"Not until she came out here this morning and crashed in the hammock. She woke up only about half an hour before you."

"Daddy, does this mean-?" May asked. Norman nodded, smiling.

"Yes May, it does." Norman said. Grace grabbed his shirt and roughly dragged Norman down for another kiss. A much longer kiss. May couldn't even retch at her parent's behavior. She was too happy. Getting up from the hammock, May rushed towards Blaziken.

"May, let him sleep!" Grace said in an urgent whisper. May ignored her, and quietly approached Blaziken. Laying down in front of him, May ran a finger down Blaziken's beak. Blaziken's eyelids fluttered, and his talon reached out. Cupping his talon in one hand, May traced the scales of his palm with her other hand. He was so beautiful when he slept. Blaziken's face was free of the strain it bore when he was awake.

"I wish I could keep you this happy." May whispered to him. Blaziken nuzzled the grass.

"Maybe I can." May smiled.

Chrissie...

Jordan's eyes opened. He thought he had heard his sister's voice telling him to be happy. Looking into May's blue eyes, he couldn't feel much else.

May… Extending a talon forward, Jordan cupped her face.

How do you make me feel like this? I thought I would never happy again…

May smiled at him, rubbing her cheek against his palm.

"Good morning to you too, Blaziken." May said. Rising, Jordan could hardly believe it. It was daylight. He had gone to sleep last night and had woken well past daybreak, not to a nightmare, but to May and her smile.

I slept… peacefully… Jordan looked up at the house's deck, where Grace and Norman sat on the swinging bench. Norman beamed down at him. Grace rested her head against Norman's shoulder, a smile on her face.

Thank you. Jordan said to Norman.

You were right. I don't know how, but you did it.

"Come on you sleepyheads, let's get you two breakfast." Grace said. Norman rose from the deck, and beckoned Blaziken into the house. Pushing Blaziken towards the house, May giggled as Blaziken stumbled to get going.

...

Jordan stood alongside May. He had taken her pack, and slung it over his shoulders. May was giving her mother and father tearful hugs.

"Come on May," Grace told her daughter.

"You've been waiting for this day since you could talk. Don't cry now, or I'll never stop." Grace warned in a weak voice. Norman stood by, and though his face didn't show a hint of it, he was pretty torn up inside.

"I'm sorry..." May choked.

"I just didn't think it would be this difficult to say goodbye."

"You're not saying goodbye, May." Norman took his daughter in his arms and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"You will always have a home here. You can always come back. Now get out into that big old world and show them what you can do."

"Daddy…" May pulled herself together. Norman released her from his embrace, and gently pushed her towards Jordan. Walking with his daughter, Norman turned May over to Jordan.

"The same goes for you." Norman told Jordan.

"Take good care of my daughter for me." Jordan felt a surge of emotion. Extending a talon to Norman, Jordan looked him in the eyes.

I will. I promise you. He told Norman, the handshake suddenly turning into an embrace.

Thank you Norman. Thank you Grace. Thank you for giving me a family. Thank you for giving me a second chance at life. I will keep May safe.

"Now get out of here, both of you." Norman said sternly.

"I have to figure out what do with myself now that I'm not going to be there to get May out of trouble." May slapped her father's elbow, laughing. Turning to leave, May and Blaziken headed down the road. They both paused at the gate. Jordan placed a talon onto the wall.

I will remember this, always. Looking at May with serene eyes, Jordan felt his love for her well within his chest.

This is where you pulled me out of the dark, May. This is where you saved me. This is where you took me into your world and showed me a different path. Thank you, May.

May took his talon in her hand.

"Come on." May said softly.

"This is only the beginning." Smiling, May led Jordan away from Littleroot, and towards the blue horizon.